


We are Phantomhive

by stormflame89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormflame89/pseuds/stormflame89
Summary: Death must have had a wicked sense of humor. Nothing else could explain Harry being dropped into another world. He must struggle through life with demons, angels, death gods and a brother as Hadrian Phantomhive, first son of Vincent and Rachel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Ok first I don't own anything, Harry Potter and Black Butler are products of someone elses mind. Second, I am going to be working with the anime not the manga but I will be adding in background. This chapter has been run through multiple grammar checkers but has not been betad. I am working on all my other fics too but this one is what is on my mind now. I have started a facebook group called Fanfiction Beta Readers and we are looking for members so if you wish please check it out. We also have a twitter under the same name. Please read and review I would love to hear from you all.  
> Storm

June 9, 2023

When he had died that first time, in the forbidden forest, he had been scared yes but his death was a means to an end. His life for Voldemort’s; it was a fair trade in his mind. When he woke up again he was ecstatic, and he swore he would live every moment to its fullest. So after the funerals on both sides, far too many, he traveled. He went to distant lands, made new friends, ate new things and he learned. Oh did Harry learn; new languages, new magicks, new dances and new songs.

At twenty-three he returned to Britain and he brought with him stories of new adventures and more books than he might ever read. His family and friends welcomed him home with open hearts and he felt at peace. He married the girl of his dreams and had two beautiful children.

Harry never stopped though; he learned and he loved, he laughed and he lived with all his heart. He was determined to squeeze every drop of life from every moment. He still traveled, dragging his wife and kids along on random holidays, and he exposed them to the wonders of life and the joys of freedom.

And maybe that’s where everything started to go wrong. Perhaps theirs was a tragic romance, forged in the white-hot fires of war and cooled too long in the waters of peace, destined to shatter under true stress. Harry didn’t know really; all he did know, as he watched his wife move under a body that was most definitely not his, was that his heart which bloomed with love for the woman hurt like nothing before.

He slowly closed the door to the bungalow and started walking down the beach, past the buildings holding his sleeping teenage children, toward the magnificent cliffs not far from his private section of the island. Catching his wife in the arms of another man was just the most recent in a long line of incidents leading him towards that moment.

A storm, which had been brewing for the better part of the day, had started to rage as he began to walk up the steep climb to the cliff top. The wind ripped past him as he reached for a supporting rock and Harry looked up into the teeth of the storm as the rain began to pour down on him. At forty-two he was by no means old for a wizard but as he climbed that steep wet surface Harry James Potter, Lord of more estates than he could count, felt old. Like a horse that had spent its whole life trudging along with nothing to show for it but a broken back and a pat on the head.

He brushed sopping black hair from his green eyes as he paused briefly to catch his breath even as it was stolen by the wind. Harry finished the climb, one he’d made with his family many times, and when he reached the flat top he found himself in the heart of the tempest. Wild and unruly the rain danced across the stone, the wind threatened to throw the wizard a hundred feet from the cliff to the raging surge that beat relentlessly against the shore.

Harry forged his way through the onslaught to the very edge where stone met the sky and stood arms outward in the face of the Sea God and his vicious storm. He stood there for so long the sun started to peak from behind graying clouds until finally Poseidon gave up and the storm and sea started to recede. He let his arms fall limp and lifeless to his sides and just stood there feeling worn out but victorious.

As he stood there soaking wet Harry found he didn’t hate his wife but he also found he didn’t love her as he once had, as he had the morning before, it was like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t even noticed over the years how all of Ginny’s passive aggressive manipulative bullshit had been wearing him down and draining the wind from his sails. A laugh escaped him as a smile curled his lips; Harry spent several moments stretching his arms above his head just enjoying the morning sun.

It was probably fate that his foot slipped in that moment, a horrible twist that sent him careening over the edge of the cliff toward the still turbulent sea. It happened so fast, a blink and a scream then struck the cliff rocks and knew no more.

~0~  
???????????????

He felt a strong sense of déjà vu as he opened his eyes, all above and around him was the ghostly white image of King’s Cross Station. Harry lay there feeling numb, almost apathetic, to the unrelenting fact that he was dead. What was he supposed to feel, he’d died before but this time he didn’t have an ace in the hole. No magic trinkets from a crazy old man, no hope for a better future, nothing.

“Why?” Harry asked, his voice carrying in the wide emptiness of the station.

“Because you can’t run from me, Master.” A voice said from his left. Harry rolled his head in that direction and was not surprised in the least to see the specter of Albus Dumbledore standing there.

“Death, I presume?” He drawled not in the least moved by the sight of that man. After his first death he had been enlightened even more as to the man who Dumbledore had been and honest as Merlin that man was no ideal of his. “Please take another form.”

“Of course, Master.” The figure simmered in the way that was hard to describe, like a heat wave or a ripple and it was over in a second. It settled on a classically dressed male figure with pale blond hair. He brushed a piece of imaginary dust from his lapel with a smirk before leaning against the pillar that was beside him. “Does this form please you, Master?”

Harry just stared at the stranger’s face with empty eyes, not impressed at the entity's shape change after having met Tonks and partially raising Teddy. The thought of his godson and children sent a sharp pain through his chest; he closed his eyes in pain and prayed they would be alright. Death let him have his moment, ever patient.

“What happens now?” Harry inquired softly as he pulled himself into the sitting position.

“You move on Master.” Death replied just as softly though he had a playful tone to his voice.

“How?” He asked even though he had an idea of what the other would say. Only Death didn’t say anything just waved a hand toward an old pure white train as it pulled into the station. Harry looked between the train and Death; something told him that Death was playing a game with him, only no one had told Harry any of the rules.

He sighed and stood, his body feeling and looking seventeen again. It was almost like the twenty-something years hadn’t even happened; like he had never gone back to begin with. Harry looked back at the unearthly man only he wasn’t there anymore, the green-eyed man did a quick turnabout but there wasn’t a single soul anywhere to be seen.

The train puffed away in its docking and as Harry looked the door to the leading cabin car slid open. He sighed again, tired and in mental agony knowing he’d never see his family again, but with a back as straight as it had ever been he marched toward the outdated train. He stepped up and grabbed the handrail but a sound behind him caused him to turn. His green eyes opened wide at the site that greeted him.

The previously empty platform was full of people who were the same ghostly white as the station bustling along. As he watched some boarded two other white trains and others just stood there talking to thin air, only if he really focused the air next to them shimmered. His train started to move, slowly at first and for a second Harry was afraid he would lose his grip as the train jerked about.

He boarded the train properly as the vehicle started to pick up speed. As he wandered around the car he noticed that all the doors were locked except for one. Harry didn’t even pause before entering the open cabin and seated himself on the white cushion. He’d only been sitting for a moment when a tiredness started to overcome him. He blinked green eyes and fought to stay awake but as the white landscape passed by the window he found that it was a losing battle. He closed his eyes one last time and drifted away into a deep sleep.

~0~

July 31, 1873

Rachel Phantomhive nee Dalles was pregnant for the first time and she was deliriously happy. Her husband of a year Earl Vincent Phantomhive was just as happy and spent days talking to her stomach. Sadly as the months passed she became weaker and the doctor had her restricted to bed. Her sister Angelina was by her side every chance she got as Vincent was often otherwise disposed of in his role as the Queen’s Guard Dog.

Suddenly one day, while talking to her beloved sister, she felt sharp pains and in a panic Angelina called for the doctor that Vincent had requested stay at the manor. The tall blond man, who was always dressed in full formal attire, entered Rachel’s bedchambers with his bag of equipment. Rachel was scared as the pains continued, the doctor checked her over quickly and then smiled brightly at her.

“It seems that your baby will be joining us shortly.” The man said as he turned to summon a servant with the bell pull. Tanaka, the House Steward, was there before Rachel had a moment to register the doctor’s words. “Old man, collect the midwife.”

The strawberry-blonde woman was suddenly scared out her mind, it was several weeks early and she’d heard plenty of horror stories about children born too early. Angelina held her hand as the doctor and midwife worked to get everything set up and suffered through Rachel’s ear piercing shrieks as the pain got worse. The countess didn’t remember much after the doctor started to work because one moment everything hurt than the midwife was placing a bundle in her arms.

Rachel was in shock for a moment as she held onto the baby like she’d been instructed to. It was over, and after a moment a laugh bubbled in her tired chest. Next to her Angelina peeked at the baby and Rachel could see the instant her sister fell in love because her red eyes softened and a smile touched her painted lips.

Rachel’s own blue eyes widened when the doors to her chambers were thrown open by her husband who was puffing as if he’d just run up every stair in the manor. Vincent’s wide brown eyes scanned the room before brightening at the sight of her. In the background the doctor and midwife finished cleaning her up and left.

“Rachel, my love, are you alright?” Vincent asked as he took a set next to her on the bed. Angelina whispered a quiet goodbye and left as well. Rachel didn’t say anything just passed the bundle to her startled husband. He stared down at the sleeping baby with his thick blue-black hair and gave a weak laugh before he slowly and with care started to unwrap the blanket that surrounded the child. “A boy!”

“Oh, darling,” Rachel exclaimed in joy as she pushed up a little in the bed to look at the proof. She was so happy that she was able to give her beloved husband with an heir. They sat there a moment until the baby started to wiggle about in the cold air, Vincent quickly wrapped their son back up and handed him back to her. “What shall we name him?”

“Hadrian,” Vincent said after a moment.

“Oh, Vincent!” Rachel gushed as tears started to pour down her face. That he would name their first-born after her father and not his said much about the love he had for her. She choked back a sob at the thought of her father who had passed away just months before. With her bed rest she had been unable to attend the funeral or even properly display her mourning but to name her first son after her father would show that she still mourned even in the happiest time of her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hello folks, well here is chapter two. First to the reviewer who left a rather upsetting review if you are still reading I am sorry you didn't like my story but I stated that this is slash/yaoi so it was quite rude to leave the review you did and I have since taken it down. Secondly, I hope you people enjoy this chapter, if you want I can post a translation of Undertaker but I am not doing it now because I figured all you lovely people could google. 
> 
> Now I leave you to it. Please Read and Review. Oh and if you have any questions feel free to drop by my facebook which is in my profile, also don't forget about my new group Fanfiction Beta Readers as we are looking for betas.

August 31, 1873

Being an infant was not easy for Harry, or Hadrian as he was now called. The near blindness and immobility of his first month had led to far to much time for retrospection. He’d sorted through his life and finally come up with a partial answer to his situation though. He’d spent many months with the Tibetan llamas on their high peaks listening to their stories and learning old magics.

Amnamnesis was a term they used to define the memories of life before life in the cycle of rebirth. Hadrian only remembered the long complicated word because the thought of reincarnation had seemed to call to him. However, he’d never thought he’d actually experience the phenomenon, to be reborn and remember all that had come before was slightly torturous.

To know that he would never see his beloved children again, that Ginny would only profit from his demise also left an ugly feeling deep in his soul. He took several deep breaths and tried to push his mind from dark thoughts as footsteps approached his crib. His weak eyes picked up the familiar blur that was his nurse, no doubt coming in to feed him. He almost grimaced at the thought of breastfeeding but knew that the woman wouldn’t back down on the matter. 

~0~

November 20, 1873

Vincent Phantomhive had never had children, at least not any he was aware of, but even he knew there was something odd about his son. Hadrian was just a little too… something; a little too bright maybe or perhaps just too alive. It was like his colors were just a shade too vivid causing him to stand out from the dull world. This feeling was not helped by the fact that the baby had opened his eyes one day and revealed the most stunning set of emerald orbs.

All this is not to say that Vincent didn’t love his son, on the contrary, he adored his heir to distraction. He constantly wanted to hold the boy, to look at him and had even fallen asleep at Hadrian's side more than once out of sheer exhaustion. Being the Guard Dog and a new father often catching up to him in the late evenings, much to his beautiful wife’s amusement.

He sighed as he set his paperwork away from him, he just wasn’t going to get any work done with his son on his mind. Vincent stood from his desk and stretched, his back popping in several places to his pleasure, before skirting his desk and striding out of his office. He took several turns and a staircase to his son’s nursery, the wet nurse/nursemaid Rose was there watching over the baby and looked up when the young earl entered.

“My Lord, how can I help you?” Rose asked stiffly. She was one of those women who thought a man should have nothing to do with his children until they were of proper age but Vincent was willing to put up with her because she was a wonder with Hadrian.

“I was just taking a break and thought to see my son.” He replied as he scooped the boy into his arms. Those strange green, green eyes looked up at him through overlong lashes as a smile spread across full lips. 

The nurse left, closing the door with a snick, and Vincent, with infant son in hand, walked to the large windows overlooking their vast lands. He gently rocked the boy, just basking in the presence of something so pure and innocent. Something so unlike the dark underworld that he was to one day rule when Vincent went to met his maker. 

~0~

June 15, 1874

It was a hot day for the early part of summer in England and to the young Phantomhive found that his mother’s idea to visit the small pond on the property was a sound one. He smiled happily as he splashed about in the shallow water nearest his mother and Aunt Angelina. From his seated position he could see the two women were laughing at him and sipping lemonade while they reclined on a blanket that had been laid out under a large tree. 

Sure it was slightly degrading to act so childishly but it kept his new family from being too worried about his weirdness. His nurse had left a few weeks before, having been unable to take the fact that he was more advanced than any other child she had ever taken care of before. He frowned as he splashed at a small fish, sure he was faster than most when it came to milestones but his own kids had been pretty fast as well. 

Maybe he should have thought through his advancement more carefully. It wouldn’t do after all to have the Phantomhives give him up because of the strangeness that followed him even in this new life. He suspected that his fear of abandonment stemmed from his care by the Dursleys, people who hadn’t entered his conscious mind in years. 

The small fish, a minnow if he wasn’t mistaken, was bobbing around his left foot. He silently shooed it away and stood on still legs just in time for his aunt to come and sweep him into her arms, not caring in the least about the water getting on her red dress. She spun him around in her arms, laughing brightly.

“Oh, nephew.” She gushed happily, obviously overtaken by his cuteness. 

“Auntie.” He responded, his word slurring slightly which just caused her to giggle more. She tucked him close to her breast and carried him over to his mother, whom still sat on the checkered blanket. His mother reached out her arms toward them and Hadrian reciprocated the move, his chubby arms waving about with every step that his aunt took. “Mama.” 

“Darling.” The strawberry-blonde exclaimed as she took him from her sister. Her smile truly lighting up her enter body as she cuddled the young child to her. Hadrian put up with it well, seeing as he also enjoyed the warm comfort the mother offered. In the background, Angelina started to pull things from the food basket they had brought from the manor.

~0~

July 31, 1874

Vincent was excited; it was his son’s first birthday and so the perfect time to start introducing the boy to his future contacts. He had invited Chlaus, Pitt and Undertaker to a small gathering of the ‘Villainous Nobles’ so as to introduce them to his precious child. Sadly Diedrich was not in the area, Emilia was in America for a while and Vicktor was working a case, so none of them would be able to make the gathering.

The blue-black haired man looked up as the door to the billiard room opened, in stepped his gorgeous wife and his son. Rachel smiled as she handed the child to him, sure the boy could walk like nobody’s business but the manor was huge and those little legs got tired easily. The strawberry-blonde gave them both a hug before departing as she was not technically part of the group. Before the door had closed a gloved hand shot out and caught it and Chlaus stepped into the room with all the barely concealed energy that made the man so popular.

“Chlaus, welcome,” Vincent exclaimed as he smiled at the brother of his heart. 

“Vincent,” The man said with a secret smile before turning his eyes to the little boy in Vincent’s arms. “Is this the nephew I have heard so much about?”

“Yes, this is Hadrian.” The brown-eyed man replied as he all but thrust his son into the arms of the other man. Chlaus floundered about much to Vincent’s amusement until finally settling with the child on his broad hip. 

“Well, aren't you just a heartbreaker.” The blond chuckled as he brushed a hand through soft blue-black locks. Hadrian for his part just looked up at the man with wide eyes and oh did Vincent sometimes wish he knew what was going on behind those green orbs. “You’ll be just like your father won't you?”

“Of course he will, he is a Phantomhive after all.” Vincent huffed with a smile. “Now where are the others?”

“Pitt will not be able to make it, something exploded in England and he was required to report on it but I swear I saw that creepy Undertaker not far behind me in the hall.” Even as he said it Chlaus looked over at the door which had opened with an ominous creak.

“‘eee, do ya ‘abe summit ter say Chlaus?” A high voice said from the other side of the room causing the blond to jump. Vincent turned and saw the strange gray-haired man standing near the billiard table, cue already in hand. The earl laughed as he took his son from the shaking man before making his way to the funeral director. “And is this cute wahn ‘eaven and ‘ell related ter ya?”

“Yes Undertaker, this is my heir Hadrian.” The brown-eyed man said as he held the boy out to his informant, behind him Chlaus was sputtering. Undertaker set his cue against the table and took the birthday boy. Both of them froze, and Vincent was startled to see the man’s strange eyes peek out from under his long bangs.

“By the bloomin’ almighty.” The man breathed as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Suddenly the Undertaker started to laugh, laugh so hard that Vincent was forced to catch his son when the other could no longer remain standing. “‘eaven and ‘ell if that ain’t the funniest fin’ I ‘ave ever Pearly Queen.”

“What is so funny, Undertaker?” Vincent demanded after taking the moment to translate the man’s Cockney. Something dark curled in the earl’s belly, that darkness that had been cultivated by his parents and the Queen to fit his role as Guard Dog. Undertaker slowly stopped laughing a twisted smile curling his lips as his two-tone green eyes flashed, eyes that oddly reminded him of the green of his son’s own gaze.

“Lil’ Master.” The man’s voice seemed to fill the room as he ignored Vincent and bowed instead to the child. Somewhere behind him, Vincent could feel Chlaus itching to reach for the gun hidden in his coat and in his arms, Hadrian shook like a leaf. When Vincent finally turned his eyes down to the boy he was surprised by the hungry look in emerald eyes, the sheer want and desire that a boy that age should not feel.

~0~

July 31, 1874

Hadrian had been looking forward to meeting his father’s associates for the sure fact that they were people he didn’t routinely have contact with. Chlaus, a blond man with a warmness about him, seemed almost scared of him. When his father had passed him to the man the blond had very nearly dropped him, would have if not for a tiny burst of magic. The magic that was nearly impossible to control but still there.

Then they had moved to another man, one Hadrian had only barely noticed slipping into the room. He was dressed in a long flowing robe like getup that reminded the wizard far too much of his people for his own liking. The blue-black haired boy was transferred to the strange ‘Undertaker's’ hold and suddenly he felt something, something he couldn’t place.

He stared into eyes with split irises and knew that this man was one of his. One of his what, he didn’t know but one of his no less. This man too almost dropped him when he started to laugh uncontrollably but his father was quick enough to save him. It took several minutes, minutes where the room was still as a grave, but Undertaker stopped laughing and turned a painfully twisted smile on Hadrian and bowed low.

“Lil’ Master.” Undertaker breathed and suddenly he was Harry again, trapped in that place between life and death and he knew. This man, no creature, both was Death and was not and the Master in him wanted him, wanted him in a way that his body should not have been able to want. Harry, no Hadrian, shook; his whole body torn between a desire for the creature and fear for what Undertaker made him feel.

His father turned him away and Hadrian found himself breathing hard, every nerve seemingly spent and sore as he leaned heavily into the man’s side. He felt more than heard the creature leaving the room, no doubt chased away by the overprotective father, and he yearned to follow, to get the answers he so desperately wanted. But it seemed he would have to wait until the next time because he could feel that he wasn’t the only one shaken by the experience. His father was trembling ever so slightly and Chlaus had pulled a small revolver from his coat as he stood guard over the two of them.

~0~

May 16, 1875

Almost a whole year had passed since Hadrian’s birthday and Vincent was more proud than ever of how quickly the boy was picking up things. He could speak far better than Vincent had at that age, according to his mother Claudia anyways, and he was beloved by all the staff. The earl loved his son so much that when Rachel had stepped into his study and told him that she was late he truly didn’t know what to feel.

He knew it was expected that he had a spare but how could he possibly love the child when it was born. After all, he only had so much love in his cruel heart to give and that was taken by Rachel and Hadrian already. Would he feel anything for the new baby? Would he treat it like his own father had treated him?

He didn’t know and that scared him. He’d gone most of his life being the one in the know and to not be was truly a unique feeling, one he found he disliked greatly. He looked at Rachel and that dark something surfaced for all of a moment and maybe she saw it because those blue eyes widened with tears. Vincent felt like an arse, he slumped against his seat and ran a hand over his face. Never before had he let the Queen’s Guard Dog slip in front of his sweet wife and to know that she had seen had seen his darkness was one of many shames he would take with him to his grave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hello people, several important thing before we get on with the story. First, to the guest reviewers I thank you for taking the time to review and I am sorry the story is not to your liking however please be aware FLAMES WILL BE DELETED. Second, some warnings I forgot to mention, this story will have underage, rape and torture. On FF. Net these scenes are cut out to abide by the TOS but if you wish to read the unedited story please visit AO3 or drop me a line on my Facebook. And last, this story deals with the three anime I have watched, which include Chlaus, Diedrich and the Villanous Nobles. That having been said as far as I am concerned Ciel has no twin, I think the writer really fucked us with that twist. So no the 'Real Ciel' will not be making as appearance in this fic.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, please R&R  
> Storm

June 9, 1875

“Hadrian, darling,” His mother called softly as she entered the room. He looked up from the old school book he’d been reading. She looked so lovely in the bright sunlight streaming through the library’s giant windows, with her long strawberry-blonde hair piled high on her head and her blue eyes dancing in happiness. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course, Mother.” He responded respectfully as he shut the book, making sure to hide the cover from her view. She brightened even more and after lifting her skirts seated herself next to him on the floor. She fussed about for another moment before turning her eyes to his waiting face.

“Darling,” She paused and took a deep breath. It was clear that whatever she had to say was something she’d been holding in. Hadrian justed waited with patience uncommon for children his age causing her to smile again. “How would you feel about having a little brother or sister?”

It felt like someone had sucker-punched him, forced all the air from him as the world spun out of control. Hadrian’s mind was running a thousand miles a moment and maybe he waited too long because he could see the woman’s face starting to droop. He jumped to his feet and started to dance around as her words finally settled in. He’d spent his ‘entire life’ just floating by, bar meeting Undertaker, but the news that he was going to be a big brother was like a switch flipping. Suddenly he wasn’t just going through the motions and he felt something more for his new family than just a soft possessiveness.

“Oh Mother,” He exclaimed as he all but threw himself into her arms, being careful of the small bump that he could detect. He was so excited that he could have just burst with it and the strawberry-blonde seemed to be in the same state. She was laughing and holding onto him tightly and if he had truly been a child he would never have noticed the tears in her pretty eyes.

~0~

July 24, 1875

Tanaka was an old man and had served the Phantomhives faithfully since Vincent’s grandfather had been the earl. So it was no shock that he was trusted so dearly by the family that when the young Hadrian had run off his third nurse he was assigned to watch the little lord. This was along with his other chores but he had to admit he absolutely adored the green-eyed boy and found it no problem to watch over the nearly two-year-old.

In fact, since the announcement of the Countess’ pregnancy Tanaka had become Hadrian’s primary caregiver, what with Lady Rachel being restricted to bed again and the earl having all but vanished from the manor. Tanaka didn’t know the exact reason for Vincent’s sudden departure from the lives of his family but he suspected it had to do with the pregnancy. After all, the previous lord had been a cruel man who was more than likely the cause of the death of Vincent’s older two brothers and if he was a betting man Tanaka would have put money on the young earl’s fear of being the same type of man.

The old servant sighed as he wiped his hands on a soft towel, his brown eyes scanning the room till they settled on the form of the young lord. Green eyes looked up at him and a small smile curved full lips before the boy went back to his book. Tanaka wondered briefly if he was the only one who thought it was odd that the almost two-year-old was reading his father’s old school books, never mind the fact that no one had taught him how to read yet.

“Young Master,” The boy looked up again at Tanaka’s call. “It is time for supper.”

“Alright, Mr. Tanaka,” Hadrian said politely as he closed his book, something on mathematics, and stood up from his place by the door. Tanaka smiled softly and took the young lord’s hand, having to stoop to do so but not caring. The boy smiled up at him and the two of them started for the nursery which would soon have a new occupant.

~0~

October 31, 1875

Hadrian knew something bad was going to happen the moment he’d woken up that day. It was after all Halloween and even though he’d had two event-free years it didn’t seem that he would make a third. He had been skittish all day and old Tanaka had been forced to send him to his mother to calm down. His mother, stuck on bed rest since not long after he’d found out about the baby, had pulled him up into bed with her and just held him to her rounded belly.

Hadrian lay there for a long time with her until he suddenly sat up like he’d been struck. His green eyes were round as a shiver ran down his spine and he jumped up from his mother’s arms. He streaked from the room; that something in him telling to run, to move fast, to reach the door. He reached the grand staircase just as the large doors to the manor creaked open.

In stumbled his father, blood dripping down the side of his face and seeping through the white of his shirt. The man took one step and then fell, his head hitting the ground with a sickening crack but no servants appeared from the wings. Hadrian knew this was the thing he’d been waiting for all day; from where he stood he could just make out a ghostly figure standing over the prone form of his father.

Hadrian screamed, his high child’s voice echoing off the walls and drawing others from the depths of the manor. It was Tanaka who found him first, no doubt having been called by his worried mother, and started to fuss over the boy even as he tried to point out his dying father. Finally, he screamed again, mostly because with the lump in his throat he couldn’t speak. The old man blinked at him and finally looked in the direction he’d been pointing.

“Lord Vincent,” Tanaka breathed in horror at the sight of his master sprawled and bleeding on the floor. To Hadrian’s dismay, the ghostly figure was much more solid than before and he could make out a long weapon in his pale hands, a weapon that he raised high above his head as the steward rushed down to the earl.

The rest of the staff finally appeared from the wings and huddled close together at the bottom of the stairs. Hadrian, still at the landing, just watched as the figure’s weapon started to fall only to pause inches from his father’s chest. The ghostly head turned to him and those two-toned eyes looked deep into his soul before the apparition disappeared.

“Call the doctor,” Tanaka shouted as he fell next to the earl and stated to put pressure on the wound that seemed to be leaking quite a lot. One of the other servants rushed away toward the phone. Behind him, he heard the quiet footsteps of his mother, who really should still have been in bed, when he turned his head Hadrian could see just how pale the woman was.

“Vincent,” She breathed as a hand came up to clutch at her chest. Then he saw it, the moment she transformed from his loving mother to the Countess Rachel Phantomhive. Her normally bright eyes turned empty and her back straightened even as her face remained the same pale color. She reached down and took Hadrian’s hand before leading him back towards her room.

~0~

November 1, 1875

It wasn’t until Tanaka arrived with their morning breakfast that either Hadrian or his mother found out anything about his father’s condition. The old steward quietly set up the tea service before sitting on the edge of the large bed and took his lady’s hand in his. Hadrian watched as he clutched his own hands tightly as neither adult spoke for a long moment.

“How…” His mother started but she paused and cleared her throat. She took several deep breaths before turning her clear blue eyes to his green orbs. They looked deep into each other for a long moment before his mother turned back to Tanaka. this time her voice was solid and sure. “How is he, Tanaka?”

“He lives,” The old man said after a moment but his brown eyes seemed to never meet those of the countess. Hadrian, for his part, frowned in concern; he knew that any little thing could kill a man in such a time. “The wound to his chest bleed a lot and for a moment the doctor thought he would not make it but it was the head wound that could be a real problem. The doctor stated that if he does not wake in the next day or so Lord Vincent may never wake again.”

Hadrian’s mother all but collapsed into the steward’s arms as silent sobs rippled through her body. However, Tanaka’s eyes never left the boy and Hadrian wondered if the man suspected he’d known something was going to happen. Not that he could tell Tanaka how he’d known because he really had no clue of that but he had the feeling if not for his timely arrival in the entrance hall his new father would have bled out on the marble floor.

~0~

November 3, 1875

Hadrian had tried his best to distract his mother from the fact that her husband had yet to wake but as she was bedridden there was little he could get her to do. So the two of them spent a great deal of time cuddled up together as she cried herself to sleep. He looked down at her, her pretty strawberry-blonde hair was looking ragged and her face was swollen from her tears but at least she seemed to have finally fallen into a deeper sleep.

The door creaked open and his Aunt Angelina stuck her red head into the room, after a quick scan of the occupants she entered and closed the door softly. Her steps on the plush carpet were soft and near silent. She seated herself on her sister’s left side as Hadrian was on the right. Those red eyes turned to him and he could tell she’d gotten the first coach to the manor after hearing because of the deep bags under those eyes.

Neither of them said anything, nothing really needing to be said after all. They just stayed as close to their loved one as they could without waking her. Hadrian was on the verge of sleep himself, curse his small body, when the door was thrown open. His mother sat bolt upright, her breath coming fast and uneven. The maid that came charging into the room all but collapsed on the floor at the end of the bed clearly out of breath herself.

“Margaret?” The strawberry-blonde asked after she had calmed down from her sudden waking.

“My Lady, he is awake.”

~0~

November 3, 1875

Vincent felt like he’d been run over by a carriage, everything hurt and it was hard to take a deep breath. It took a minute but slowly the events that had led him to feel that way became clearer. He’d been out on the town, trying to drown out his guilt for all but abandoning his dear wife during such a trying time in several bottles of scotch at his club when an old ‘friend’ from school had appeared.

The man, whose name seemed to escape him, had offered to drive him back to his city lodgings, a small manor house near to the fashionable district. Only he’d been as drunk as a sailor and had just wanted to go home so had asked if the man, a blond if he remembered, would mind the trip to his country estate. The man had jumped at the idea and the two of them had headed out.

Vincent should have sobered up on the drive but his ‘friend’ had brought out a variety of liquors and the two had toasted the night, twenty-six or so times. From there the ride was a blur but he definitely remembered arriving at the manor in the middle of the night and his ‘friend’ striking him over the head with one of the liquor bottles.

The blue-black haired man had nearly fallen but had managed to draw his pistol just in time to ward off a trust to his heart with a long dagger. Only he was too drunk to aim even at close range and fend off the attacks so the dagger had slipped through his guard. He’d all but thrown himself the carriage after taking a single shot and had fallen hard on his injured side as the coach took off.

He had struggled into the manor and his memory of events stopped but someone must have found him otherwise he would have bled out instead of waking in his bed. He lay still in the large bed and swore that he’d never again get so drunk. But he had to admit that the whole affair had been good for him because while he’d been stumbling into the house he’d been thinking of his family. His beautiful wife and son but also of the new baby and Vincent had finally made peace with the demons that had chased him since finding out that Rachel was pregnant again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, first, to the reviewer who left the long review thank you but that doesn't change my opinion. This is fanfiction so I can pick and chose which parts of canon I use because while I am borrowing the characters it is my story. Second, that's it, I didn't get any crude reviews last chapter so I am happy.  
> Thank you all for reading and please R&R, I live on reviews.  
> Storm  
> P.S. Please don't kill me after this chapter.

November 6, 1875  
  
It had been three days since Rachel’s husband, Vincent, had woken from his coma but due to their bedridden states they had not seen each other. Not minding the trip she had taken that night to find her son which the doctor had had words with her about. So she sat on her bed watching as little Hadrian running around the room, climbing over the footstool and onto the bed before turning and repeating the feat. A frown crossed her face as he slipped from view and she gingerly twisted trying to catch sight of him. When he did not pop back up she placed a foot on the ground only to be rushed by the child.  
  
“No,” He stated sharply with a cute face. Rachel nearly laughed even as she tucked her foot back under the warm covers because Hadrian had all but become her guard dog after hearing the doctor give her his lecture. That she could have lost the baby or her life had scared the little boy who despite being only two had always seemed to understand what was going on around him.  
  
Hadrian looked hard at her for a moment before smiling that smile of his that just melted her heart. He clambered up into the bed and cuddled close to her, his tiny hand rest lightly on her belly, and the two of them just laid there quietly until the door opened. Vincent stuck his head into the room and seeing the two of them alone crept inside. He closed the door softly before turning back to his wife and child.  
  
“Vincent,” Rachel all but breathed as she held out her arms, all those frightful months of his silence and rejection just vanishing in light of his near-death experience. Those brown eyes seemed so sad as he looked at her and she just wanted to fix whatever made him so sad.  
  
“Father,” Hadrian didn’t quite shout but it was louder than his normally soft voice. he all but rushed to his father but stopped inches from him and gave him a once-over before attaching himself lightly to his left leg. Vincent smiled, his whole face lighting up at the sight of his son, and Rachel knew everything was going to be alright. Even if they never talked about the things that had happened in the last few months their family would preserver because they were Phantomhives.  
  
~0~  
  
December 14, 1875  
  
Hadrian was sitting with his mother, as he often had in the last month when she doubled over in pain. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, it having many years since he’d seen a woman going into labor, but he was soon rushing from the room to fetch Tanaka. Thankfully, the man had been in the process of walking toward his mother’s room and so the search was quickly over.  
  
“Tanaka help, Mother is hurting.” He tried to explain without giving anything away, after all, he shouldn’t have known what was going on. The old man looked at Hadrian puzzled until his mother’s voice rang through the hall then he was running toward the suite set aside for the pregnant woman.  
  
Hadrian watched the servant envyishly as he tried to catch his breath, it was more than apparent that he wouldn’t be able to catch the man. He started to walk back to the room, green eyes stuck on the off-white painted door. As he reached the entrance he was nearly run over by the doctor and midwife coming from the other way. He blinked before opening the door a crack.  
  
“That’s not a place for men like us, Hadrian.” His father’s deep voice stated as he lifted Hadrian high into the air and closed the birthing chamber door.  
  
“But Father…” He started, he wanted to be there. His Aunt Angelina wasn’t there to hold his mother’s hand because technically she wasn’t due for another month. Such an early delivery could mean all sorts of bad things could happen and he had seen more than his fair share of stillborns, Ginny having had three before his first child was born. Thoughts of his old family ripped at him and caused tears to build in his eyes. His father floundered, one arm waving about as he babbled something about etiquette lessons but Hadrian wasn’t listening too lost in the past.  
  
~0~  
  
December 14, 1875  
  
It was nearly midnight when the screaming stopped and the doctor poked his head out. Vincent was sitting in a high backed chair a servant had brought with his son in his lap. The boy was fighting off sleep, rather successfully too, and all but shoot up when he noticed the new man’s presence. Vincent huffed a laugh and stretched before standing, one arm holding his son on his hip, before approaching the man that had stepped outside the birthing chamber door.  
  
“My Lord,” The man began as he wrung his hands, he sighed deeply causing Vincent to hold his own breath. The doctor looked up, his bright blue eyes shining with sympathy, and Vincent felt his heartbreak. That was the look of a man with bad news, news that could break a man in two. The man cleared his throat and pulled at his stiff collar. “My lord, the baby lives but is very weak.”  
  
“Weak…” Vincent didn’t know what to say. He was thrilled that his child was alive but could he handle the problems that came with a weak baby. His own brother, Nathanael, had been weak born and had not lived past fourteen, partly because his father had been an evil bastard but still.  
  
“So.” The quiet voice of his firstborn drew his gaze to the boy. Those eerie green eyes were staring the doctor down, his whole little body a testament to his love of the being he’d never met. Vincent smiled, his brown eyes softening, and found himself wondering how the child could change every thought in his head. The doctor looked taken aback, probably never having been spoken to like that by a two-year-old.  
  
“I have to agree with my son doctor,” Vincent said as he reached past the man for the doorknob. “I don’t really care if the child is weak as long as he lives I will love him just as I love Hadrian.”  
  
Vincent completely ignored the beaming smile that touched his son’s lips as the two of them entered the chamber. The first thing he saw was Rachel laying exhausted and beautiful on the bed, in her arms a small bundle. It took a moment for him to realize she was crying tears of sorrow and for a second he thought the baby had died while he was dealing with the doctor. She looked up, her face a mask of true sadness, and reached for him.  
  
“I am sorry, My Lord,” She said after he’d taken her hand and set their son down on the bed. He frowned and cupped her shaking hand between his larger pair.  
  
“Whatever for, my love,” He asked as he looked deep into her blue eyes.  
  
“I could not give you a second strong son like Hadrian,” Rachel’s voice was full of tears and Vincent felt his heart stutter again but firmed himself after a moment. He looked at Hadrian out of the corner of his eye, the boy was cuddled up to his mother’s side just staring at the wrapped bundle waiting.  
  
“I do not care, Rachel,” He said with a smile and suddenly he truly didn’t, it was like all the worries were gone. After all, if his new child was half as strong as his firstborn everything would work out.  
  
“Oh, Vincent,” Rachel all but sobbed, her joy at his answer causing tears to fall. He brushed them away and looked down at the bundle. Rachel tugged her hand free of his and brushed back the blanket to reveal the tiny face that so resembled his own right until bright blue eyes opened. He knew babies eyes changed color but he suspected that the little one’s eyes would always be some shade of blue. “A boy, my love.”  
  
Vincent found himself only slightly disappointed, he’d been hoping for a little girl, but the sight of his first born’s reaction was priceless. Hadrian had all but fallen on to Rachel trying to see the baby but hearing that it was a boy caused him to wiggle around in excitement.  
  
“A brother,” The boy was a little ball of uncontrolled joy, his entire body seeming to vibrate with the emotion as he reached out a slow and soft hand. His small fingers brushed the baby’s face and those green eyes opened wide in surprise before brightening again. “A brother.”  
  
“Yes, my son. You have a little brother and I expect you to teach him how to be a good boy.” Hadrian nodded but Vincent could tell all the boy’s attention was on the baby. A baby he, Vincent, had to name as was the tradition. He paused and through a few names around his head, dismissing his father’s name off hand, but one stuck; his grandfather’s name. Ciel was a good strong name and perfect for those pretty blue eyes.  
  
~0~  
  
December 16, 1875  
  
Hadrian had forgotten how loud a newborn was, it having been many years since his own children had been that young and he himself had not been a fussy baby the second time around. So as he lay quietly in his cot with a pillow over his head he cursed the fact that he couldn’t get up to help the poor thing. The new wet nurse, who had only put in the minimal amount of work, was no doubt in the next room pretending to be asleep so as not to have to deal with them.  
  
He suspected the woman wouldn’t last long but until such time as his parents got tired of her negligence, he was stuck with a colici maybe baby and nowhere to go. Not that it was all bad, during the day he mostly spent time with his recovering mother, working father or the also working Mr. Tanaka. He sighed at the thought of his parents; they were back on speaking terms, had been since his father had come to his mother’s room that day in November, but something was still not cleared up between them.  
  
Ciel stopped crying for a moment and Harry looked through the bars of his cot at the maybe baby. He didn’t know why but the child felt off to him, true his magic was weak and twisted from whatever had happened to send him to that world but something said not everything was as it should be. Not that it mattered, Ciel was his baby brother, a brother he’d wanted since his first youth with the Dursleys. That meant he would do anything for the little maybe baby, even if it meant laying down his own life.  
  
The baby started to cry again and Hadrian amended his previous thought, he’d do just about anything because he refused to listen to Ciel continue to ball his eyes out. So he crawled to the edge of the bed and waved a hand. A weak, sputtering ball of amber light waved from him to his brother before setting into the child’s chest. Well, it wasn’t a cure for colic, the spell would sooth the gas build up in the baby’s small body.  
“Thank you, God.” A voice said from the adjacent room.  
  
~0~  
  
December 24, 1875  
  
It was Christmas and Vincent had taken his family to London, Hadrian had never been to the city and young Ciel had never been anywhere so it seemed to make sense. Not that he had gone for the pure joy of London in the winter, no Diedrich was in town and he planned to pay the man a visit. As it was they arrived late in the evening and the boy’s with their Nanny were quickly put to bed and Rachel, still weak from the birth, went to rest as well.  
  
So it was that Vincent was alone in his study when Diedrich stopped by, drunk as drunk could be. The Phantomhive waved the servant away and closed the door behind the pissed man. It was a good thing he did for the moment he turned back the German was on him. Hands everywhere and lips trying to catch his; Vincent pushed back against his onetime lover, not in the least attracted to the man in that moment.  
  
“What is wrong with you man?” He all but spat as he finally caught the other’s flailing arms.  
  
“Fincent bleaze I need you.” His German accent bleeding more heavily into his drunken words.  
  
“Get a hold of yourself Diedrich. We are in my home, with my wife and children.” Vincent's voice was firm and each word seemed to strike the other a physical blow.  
  
“You care for zem too much.” Diedrich’s bloodshot eyes bored into his demandingly.  
  
“They are my family, and I love them.” Vincent softly responded as he let go of the other. The German nearly collapsed into a pile on the floor, soft sobs leaving him. Vincent felt bad, truly he did, but he’d only slept with the other because he’d been in such a foul temper about Rachel’s pregnancy.  
  
He didn’t love Diedrich, no matter the whispered words that had passed between them in the dark of night in the other’s lodgings. In fact, the very reason he’d all but uprooted his family the day before Christmas was that he’d known the other would be in town and he had needed to talk to him about what had happened. He’d planned to find the man at his lodgings but that Diedrich had come to him proved the damage he’d caused the other in his own arrogance. He just prayed that he could fix the problem before it got out of hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry it has been so long I have been really sick and trying to get better. This chapter did not come easily I will tell you and a I should warn you the last thousand word or so are kinda from a dark sleepless night and well I will roll with the punches as they come. Also there is mention of rape in this chapter, on a side note this fic will have rape, torture and other bad things happening to good people so I am sorry if that offends anyone. Alright enough of me blabbering on with the show.

Chapter 5

January 12, 1876

The return to the country manor was slowed several days by the severe winter storm that hit London in the days following the end of the holidays on January 5th. As it was they didn’t arrive until late on the 12th and Vincent was gladder to see his ancestral seat then he’d ever thought he’d be. Having Sir Charles as a father had never lent him towards warmth for the place but having been amongst the rabble of London had worn him thin.

Tanaka and the servants greeted them at the door; the old man bowed low then followed exactly one step behind him on the left with Marcus, his butler, on the right. They walked not with the rest of the family and staff towards bed but to Vincent’s main study. They arrived in the room that could not be described as anything but masculine with its dark woods and brown leather and Vincent felt the stress of the world fade away.

His study, not his father’s which had been three doors to the left, was a place he could come to hide from everyone but still get his work done. It was not a well-known fact but he, Earl Vincent Phantomhive, didn’t like to be around people besides his wife and children. In fact, Marcus, Tanaka, and Chlaus were the only living souls to know that secret, his beloved mother having died in ‘66. Vincent sat heavily in his chair as the two men began puttering around the room.

Marcus busied around with the tea kettle while Tanaka began placing items in front of him, each item going in a specific place which denoted what it was. Just as the butler laid out the tested teacup the steward seated himself in the leftmost chair of the pair that sat before his cherry wood desk. Vincent took a sip of the perfectly prepared tea before setting the cup on its saucer and fixing the old man with an expectant look.

“My lord,” Tanaka began, his steady voice another calming part of the ambiance. “It would seem Herr Diedrich has returned safely to the mainland after his departure on the 3rd. As well the Marquess Midford has sent another letter asking for an arrangement to be made between young Master Hadrian and the Lady Elizabeth.”

“Midford,” Vincent snorted. Perhaps because he was married to Francis the man often forgot who held the real power between them, titles be damned. As it was Alexis Midford had been hounding him to set the match but the earl refused to let his eldest marry for less than love. He remembered the moment he met Rachel far too well to allow his heir to suffer any other fate.

Besides Hadrian was destined to be the next Guard Dog and thus would take over the family fortune. As a second son, Ciel would need an influential wife so as to help his brother and bar the daughter of a Duke the Lady Midford was the best catch. Perhaps to others it would look odd that he was favoring his youngest in the match but they would be the ones to fall before him and Hadrian.

~0~

July 31, 1878

Hadrian was not excited about his birthday but he put on a smile for his mother and brother. Ciel was almost three and had him wrapped around those chubby little fingers, he would do just about anything for that kid. There was just something about those bright blue eyes that called to him, that said protect, not unlike with his own children.

As it was said boy had been put down by the umpteenth nanny of the year and Hadrian had vacated the nursery in an attempt to avoid his mother who was insistent that he go to the ‘family’ party that was taking place out on the lawn. That she had almost smiled when she said family meant that his mother had invited the Midfords, who well already family would be more closely tied to them when Ciel married Elizabeth ‘call me Lizzie’ Midford. Hadrian had never been so glad to have a compassionate father than when he was informed that his brother would be marrying their first cousin instead of himself. The thought had sent a shiver down his spine, and that was before he’d ever met the dame. As it turned out little Lizzie was obsessed with all things cute and agreed with him that Ciel was the cuter of the two of them.

Hadrian was just turning a corner on his way to the library when his mother all but snatched him up from behind. He turned his head slowly and glared at her smiling face but she seemed undaunted even as she struggled to hold his weight. After several minutes of a stare down his mother finally relented and set him back on his feet, only she refused to let go of his hand.

“Come along now Darling.” She had laughter in her voice as she pulled gently at his hand. Hadrian looked down the hall toward the library for a fleeting second but sighed and followed the woman towards the lawn party. The bright summer day greeted them as they crossed out of the manor and he had to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Rachel, my sister, seems you found the rascal.” A chiming voice was followed by the appearance of the nearly iridescent red hair that could only belong to his Aunt An. Hadrian scowled and tugged free of his mother’s hold so that he could cross his small arms. The display caused both women to raise a hand to cover their smiles as the three continued down a side path toward the ‘small’ side lawn. 

“How are classes going?” His mother asked her sister while they were still some ways from the party. The woman in question almost tripped over her feet in surprise causing a new round of laughter in the strawberry-blond.

“Classes have been both easy and difficult.” His aunt said as she fiddled with her gloved hands. Hadrian looked at her and could see the hurt in her red eyes. “I admit that the classes themselves are the easy part.”

“Then what is the difficulty?” The blue-eyed woman quired. Angelina bit her lip and turned her head away before looking back at her sister; the both of them ignored him but he too wanted to know what had her so off put.

“It is just that I am the first female to make it so far. Really it is thanks to Vincent that I was even accepted into the program and it can be daunting.” The redhead pressed her lips together in shame and bowed her head slightly. Hadrian felt the tiny amount of magic he had managed to cultivate slip from his grasp and he was sure that if either adult had looked at him his eyes would have glowed as the wind swirled around them. He paused in walking to catch his breath and reign in the wild magic that he could feel rage in the sweep of the breeze.

“Oh sister,” his mother sighed with a fond smile. She reached down and grabbed his aunt’s hand in her own. “You will do fine An. There has been a need for a female doctor amongst the peerage for a long time and I just know you will be the person to fill the role.”

Hadrian too believed in his aunt but words escaped him as the magic bucked and fought to wreak vengeance on those who had, however minorly, hurt someone who was his. A shiver ran up his spine as the possessiveness that had surfaced more than once in his life clawed at his belly. Angelina Dalles would achieve her dream, if the blue-black haired boy had to use every ounce of magic at his disposal to make it sure of it, so be it. The wind finally settled deep in his soul and in the world around the manor as the trio approached the group already located on the lawn.

~0~

March 14, 1879

Rachel smiled sadly as she walked amongst the late spring roses that bloomed on the Phantomhive country estate. Vincent and Angelina were away to London as they often were, Hadrian was in the manor with his third tutor of the year and Ciel was taking a nap in the nursery leaving her to her wandering and melancholy. She had found herself prone to such emotions more and more often as the years rolled by.

The strawberry-blonde walked with a straight back through the flower beds even though inside she wanted to sink to the ground and cry. She had no reason to feel that way; she had a loving husband, a doting sister and two wonderful sons. A sob bubbled in her throat at the thought of her children. Thoughts of Hadrian and Ciel should not have brought her to tears but as the years passed and she did not conceive a third child… 

Rachel suspected that her husband was pleased that she had not fallen pregnant again; after all, things had never been quite the same as before that day in his study when she had seen the dark flutter in his brown eyes. There was a certain stiffness in his arms, a distance in his eyes and a twist to his smiling lips. Oh that was not to say that they were not still in love but that love seemed tempered with a bitterness and she was not sure Vincent even realized that it was there.

~0~

August 19, 1879

Vincent was at his wits end; not only with the bloody heat that seemed to seep into every room of the manor but also because it had been four years since he had been attacked. He had searched the entirety of the British Isles and the colonies; either in person or by proxy did not matter, where one of his pawns went so to did he, for he was the shadow beneath which the underworld existed. He slammed the glass in his hand against his desk, the bourbon sloshed over the side and created a puddle on the cherrywood surface.

A snarl touched his lips as he thought of how he could have died, him… The Earl of Phantomhive, the Queen’s Watchdog and the proprietor of Funtom Toys. Vincent hated thinking about it, of leaving his children alone in the cruel world that he was a part of.Oh, he knew without a doubt what would have happened to his beloved Rachel, torn apart in her grief by Phantomhive enemies and poor Ciel would have never have been born. However, he feared most for Hadrian, wonderful but odd Hadrian, who would have been taken by the Queen to raise as he had been in the final days of his own youth but, unlike him, his little boy would have been too young to protect himself from the many enemies he would have found in Buckingham Palace.

He was not dead, some days he had to remind himself of that, and both his boys would grow up loved and cared for if he had anything to do with it. He could feel the darkness draping over him as he swore to do the best he could to protect his precious children. Vincent Phantomhive would move heaven and earth for his family and at that moment the biggest threat to them was the mystery man who had stabbed him. The thought of the blurry blond figure sent his blood flowing red hot and he downed the rest of the bourbon.

~0~

October 31, 1879

Angelina shook as she lay where they had left her. She hurt, hurt from their hands, their words and their… She could not think the word, even after what had happened… A sob boiled in her chest but she forced it back, she could not give in yet, not until she was safely back in her London house.

No… Not the house, they would know she would go there for safety. They might follow her back and there really was no way of knowing what they might do if they caught her a second time. She sat up slowly, her ruby hair falling in shorn locks around her. They had not even left her that, the thing she had both loved and hated. She grit blood-stained teeth and levered herself to her knees; each movement caused agony to course through her very core, blood flowed from her bare body and stained the pavement.

Finally, Angelina staggered to bruised feet and with an iron will she shuffled across the filthy ally she had been dumped in. Her clothes lay ripped and soiled in a pile of something she would rather not think about. She dressed with infinite care as to her wounds and the rot that covered the garments, and when she was as dressed as she could be she edged to the ally mouth and peeked her head out.

Not a single person was present on that street and the high moon told her that the evening was well into its cup. A weight lifted from her shoulders when she spotted a nearby street sign that said she wasn’t too far from her destination. She dragged herself from one shadow to another, not wanting anyone she knew to see her in such a state. It seemed to take forever and the sun was not long from rising when she heaved herself up the back steps and began knocking. The door opened quite rudely to reveal a startled cook.

“My God!” the cook exclaimed far too loudly at the sight of Angelina, no doubt because she had scared a few years off the poor servant's life. “Miss Angelina, what? What has happened to you?”

The redhead tried to speak but her throat was damaged from screaming and cursing. She placed a hand on the door to steady herself as the world around her began to swim. A great wave of darkness caused her knees to buckle and sent her careening to the floor. Only she felt strong arms came around her at the last second, she was carried inside and upstairs all while her world fluttered in and out.

She lay in a dark room for a long time before two people entered, one of them set a candle on her bedside and began to undress her. At the feeling of cold callused hands touching her skin, Angelina came to life. Her fingers became claws, her teeth were as knives; she would not let them hurt her again. She would not be a victim a second time; strong arms wrapped around her and she fought, fought until she could not breathe for the fury and sickness she felt at another’s touch.

“Hush, Angelina…” A voice whispered in her ear and she went limp. A sob bubbled in her once again and the arms tightened their hold, no doubt trying to hold her together as she fell apart. She was safe; she had never felt so safe as she did then cradled in the arms of the darkness that would forever haunt her. The last thing she heard before unconsciousness took her was the dark croon of words that filled her with peace. “They will pay, dear Angelina, every last one will rue this injustice brought upon you.”

Oh, Vincent.

~0~

October 31, 1879

Strange nightmares had plagued Hadrian in the days leading up to Halloween, ones that no amount of half-cocked divination could interpret. So it was no surprise to him that he woke that day nearly crippled with the wrongness. Something had happened in the dead of the night, something that set every one of his nerves on fire. He took several deep breaths and focused on his magic, magic that had grown exponentially since his birthday.

It sung beneath his skin and begged to be unleashed, to reek havoc on the world. He licked dry lips and with his mind still connected to his magic set it free. The energy raced from him, out into the world and charged toward London. It followed trails of itself, left on people he cared for and emerged in a familiar townhouse.

The wrongness, the error in his world, lay heavily upon the house. It was like a being near a Horcrux all over again; with the film of slimy, wanton desire and the edge of death. His magic surged through the floor into a dark bedchamber and made a beeline for the bed. As they got closer Hadrian could make out the image of his Aunt Angelina; only her hair was cut short and her face was covered in bruises.

Rage boiled in the blue-black haired boy, so perhaps he was not quite as gentle as he should have been as he entered the sleeping woman’s mind. The first scene was one of fear; Angelina was running down an empty London street, from behind her came the bay of men too deep in their cup. The scene changed; she was pressed bodily against a wall as someone ripped at her clothes with dull fingernails.

The third scene was of faces; only with each face came a name and soon he had a list of ten. He withdrew more gently and with his magic squashed the tiny budding tendrils of life that tried to make their way into his aunt. Finally the magic, still little more than wind, flowed out of the window after faces with names. Hadrian floated through London with his magic as the day grew brighter and when he reached each man who had hurt his aunt he allowed his magic to whisper over them.

It did not whisper of death, no, instead it murmured of misfortune. The first of many small ones that would change their lives until they begged for death. That each man who had sullied Angelina Dallas would never practice medicine was the least of it. They would squirm for him for years and somewhere in the back of their minds, they would wonder if it all lead back to that moment when they took what they could never give back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how did you like it please let me know.
> 
> ~Storm


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hello my people, how are all you this fine day? Me, I am well. Thank you for asking. Anyways few announcements, first I now have a beta!! *Do a happy dance* That means I will be phasing the old chapters out for beta'd versions when I get the time. Second, this chapter took another left turn and I don't know how I am going to deal with the fall out so I don't know how long it will take to update again. I want to thank all my reviewers and people who blow my email up with favs and follows, you guys really keep me going. I hope you guys like it, please review and I hope you all have a pleasent day.  
> ~Storm

Chapter 6

November 1, 1879

Vincent had never felt such fury. It coursed through his veins like molten iron and scorched his very soul. It ate at him like a many mouthed hell beast, and he feared that it would devour him whole if he did not release the darkness that it festered inside. His whole body trembled with it; his mind besieged by images of sweet An’s bruised and bloody body as the doctor stripped away her clothes, propriety be damned.

She had clung to him in her unconsciousness and Vincent had wondered if it would have been different if he had married her instead of Rachel, if she would have been spared the cruel harshness of reality. Even hours later, after he had left the sick room where An had been placed to recover, he felt nothing but that dark hunger for retribution.

The brown eyed man sighed heavily where he sat in his townhouse study. On the desk was a pile of reports from every corner of the kingdom, but he had pushed them all aside, not daring to do more than that in his current state for fear of making a mistake that would come back to haunt him or his children later. He wished he could do something, anything, to release the growing inferno that surfaced in him but he dared not even breathe too heavily for he knew that he could fly into a rage the likes of which London had not seen in an age.

Vincent slowly raised a nearly empty tumbler to his lips; liquor was probably the last thing he needed and with each sip the covers and masks faded until all that was left was the devil in men’s clothing that was the Earl Phantomhive. He was cruel and uncaring; willing to do anything to achieve his goals, to see the world burn in the darkness of its own sins.

For a brief moment rationality left him and the crystal tumbler exploded as it impacted the bricks of the fireplace, which roared loudly as crystal shards and aged brandy rained down on the November fire. Vincent hung his head, harsh laughter echoed in the study and shook his whole body with the force of it. Slowly the laughter stopped until only the creakle of the fire and his heavy breathing broke the ringing silence. A knock on his study door startled him and Vincent nearly jumped from his chair for the fright of it.

“Enter.” Vincent demanded sharply, his heart thundered in his chest. The door swung open to reveal Marcus; his face was as white as a sheet and Vincent, with drunken eyes, spied a letter clutched in a shaking hand.

“My Lord,” the nondescript butler started before he stopped and took a deep fortifying breath. “Something has happened at the country manor.”

“What?” Vincent felt the fury starting to slip from his hold as blood drained from his face.

“Master Hadrian has not woken since yesterday morning.” The butler’s quiet voice rang in the study and Vincent was sure that if had not already been seated he would have fallen to his knees. The last of his righteous anger faded, leaving behind not Lord Phantomhive but Vincent, a concerned father whose child’s life might hang in the balance.

~0~

November 3, 1879

It had been four days since Rachel’s perfect world had been shaken violently. Her oldest son, Hadrian, had gone to sleep on the 30th just fine, but when his nurse had gone to wake him the next morning he had refused to be roused. She had immediately sent for the doctor and penned a missive to Vincent. The doctor had spent half an hour with the child but had been unable to discover why he still slept. Vincent had arrived in the wee hours of November 1st, looking disheveled and unshaven as she had never seen him.

The blue-black haired man had not done more than greet her before he had raced to their son’s room, taking the stairs two at a time. Rachel had followed at a more sedate pace, in no hurry to see the near lifeless form of her precious child. Vincent was on his knees by the bed when she had finally made it to the room and she had not been sure if he had been praying or not.

Rachel looked over at her son; Hadrian was still sleeping, his body slowly wasting away even as his chest rose and fell. The doctors had been unable to give them any answer except that he might never wake again. She had been distraught for the first day and the second, but she’s woken on the third from a dream like none she had had before.

In the dream she was faced with a man, only he was not always a man, whose face changed with each breath. Only his bright green eyes remained the same, eyes that bored into her soul with a hint of familiarity and darkness. The man had turned from her and started down a path that was never ending; his each step taking him further from her and something in her heart broke. 

The man of a thousand faces turned back to her; his green eyes rested in the shadowy face of her son. Then she blinked and it was another face that turned from her. Rachel had woken in tears, her heart beating too quick in her chest. She had dressed in her red dressing gown and walked the two halls to Hadrian’s room. Vincent had barely looked in her direction but she knew that if she had presented a threat he would have protected their boy easily.

That had been the last time either of them had left the room, bar their basic needs, and it was wearing on both of them. Rachel knew that something was going to give, the entire manor was treading on thin ice, and something had to cave. She was going to return to her book when a flash of emerald eyes caught her attention.

“Hadrian?” The strawberry-blonde whispered, not wanting to wake Vincent. She reached out and took a warm but limp hand in her own.

“Mother,” the boy’s voice cracked and trembled with the dryness of his throat, but he forced out, “I am sorry. I got lost.”

~0~

November 30, 1879

Magic was a wonderful thing; it was life, love and freedom with a touch of craziness and the flavor of the wind. At least, that was how Hadrian had always seen it. Then he had spent four days drifting through the clouds sowing seeds of vengeance across London. During that immeasurable time when he was one with the wind and stars he found out a disturbing thing about Magic. It was possessive; he realized that Magic had never been his but that he had always been, always would be Magic’s.

Even so, many days later, so many days removed from his own dark possessiveness, he felt Magic surrounding him. It hovered over him in a suffocating cloud and touched every part of him as its power grew. It was not exactly the Magic that he had had in his original life; he could not direct it in the same ways, could not control it. He had first noticed it on his birthday when he had fought to wrangle the unruly wind that had escaped him, but he had ignored the implications then. He had ignored it and it had almost cost him his life. 

Four days Hadrian had spent trapped in the Magic, and he still had not gained back all the weight he had lost almost a month later. He sighed and shook his head, trying and failing to pay attention to his newest tutor, but in the back of his mind Magic swirled.

~0~

June 13, 1880

Hadrian and Ciel, ages six and four respectively, stood next to their parents in the receiving area of the foray as they waited for the next people to arrive at their father’s birthday ball. Not that Vincent Phantomhive, who was male, married and twenty-nine, needed a birthday ball, but his darling wife had insisted. The green-eyed boy knew that neither of them would be allowed to attend the majority of the party, but took the time allotted him to study the cream of the crop of the English Aristocracy.

The Midfords had arrived early, followed by two dukes, their duchesses and a viscount. Hadrian had noticed that all of the men, Alexis Midford included, differed to his father, though the man was only an earl. It made him wonder about just who the Phantomhives were. A man approached them, his grey hair slicked back and his brown eyes white with age, but the green-eyed boy noticed how his father’s back stiffened just a touch and how his mother slid slightly in front of him and his brother. Hadrian’s eyes narrowed as the man stopped in front of his father.

“Vincent, what a pleasure to see you again.” his voice oozed with a foulness that almost caused Hadrian to step back. His cataracted eyes paned over them, “and to meet your lovely family.”

“Henry,” his father stated with a firmness to his voice as he placed a crushing hand on Hadrian’s shoulder. A muscle in his face twitched ever so slightly as he smiled, only the barest hint that showed Hadrian that his father detested the man before them. “It is a pleasure as always to see you.”

“Do not worry,” The man said as he leaned closer to his father. A smile played at his lips even as his eyes roamed the empty entrance hall. “Your gorgeous sons are safe from my evil clutches for the night. Consider it a birthday present from your dearest uncle.”

A suffocating silence filled Hadrian’s head, he was sure that more things were exchanged between the two men but he did not hear a word. That foul creature who made his skin crawl was his father’s blood. His eyes caught milky white and the world narrowed until it was only the two of them; them and the secrets hidden behind those ghastly eyes. 

Hadrian’s body went cold, his skin prickled and his breath caught; the dark memories that traveled between them showed a life guided by avarice and lust. Then they were gone and Henry, Duke of Norfolk, entered the ballroom. The green-eyed boy was left trembling beneath his father’s hand as his magic swirled around him. His parents were looking at him in a strange way, sort of like fear mixed with wonder.

Hadrian broke free of his father’s hold and tore across the hall, wind propelling his feet as he scaled the stairs. His family remained standing in the thankfully empty hall; each of them frozen between social standards and a desire to follow him. He knew that they would remain; his mother would make an excuse for his absence and they would go about the night as if nothing had happened, just like good little English men and women. In the morning however he would have to account for his actions.

~0~

June 14, 1880

Vincent did not sleep at all following his ‘party’; not for reasons that had previously haunted him, like memories of his mother’s brother, but because of the strange incident with Hadrian. During the brief interaction with Henry he had felt his boy trembling beneath his hand, and then the air around them had shifted. It had thickened and shuddered minutely in the empty hall before Hadrian was pulling from his grasp.

The green-eyed boy was gone in a blink and every fiber of Vincent had wanted to go after him, to find out what was going on but a guest entered the hall and he was forced to put on his mask. Rachel performed fantastically and came up with some tale about their son being ill, even little Ciel kept his silence on the matter despite his young age. 

The dawn did not come quickly enough for Vincent. When the sun did dawn, and the last of the guests had departed, he lay in his bed, but in his head he replayed those moments when his perfect boy turned his world upside down. As the Queen’s Guard Dog he had had his fair share of dealings with the unknown and fabulous things in the world, but he’d never seen anything like Hadrian’s display.

Vincent sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed; behind him Rachel stirred causing him to look in her direction. Her long hair was spread across her pillow and her silk clad body curled in on itself. He looked at her for a long while, just admiring her beautiful form, but eventually he extracted himself from the covers. As much as he wanted to lay back and enjoy the warmth of his wife, he had things to do; the first of which was speak to Hadrian.

~0~

June 14, 1880

Hadrian shook as he sat waiting for his father in the man’s office. He was not sure what was going to happen to him; he was in the Victorian era and they were not keen on ‘witches’ if he remembered correctly. His family had been nothing but kind to him, however he had seen good and god fearing people like them become cruel monsters in their fear of those different from them.

He could have run, could have made it London where the streets would have hidden him, but he had not had the heart to leave. He had grown to care very deeply for his new family despite his original indifference toward them. Vincent and Rachel were fine parents and little Ciel, despite his frail health, was a bundle of joy.

Footsteps could be heard in the hallway and Hadrian felt his mind race. He wondered what Vincent would say, would he send him away, to the tower or the stake? Hadrian stood when the steps stopped at the office door, he would face his temporary father with the same courage and nerve he had faced every other trail in his two lives.

The door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N So do you all hate me now? If not please review and dont forget to checkout my tumbler and facebook page, I will try to keep you updated on the process. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hello folks, super happy to be here. Well here is chapter 7 straight from the loving hands of my beta. One note there will be some translations at the bottom. Hopefully the next chapter is not far behind. Hopefully you enjoy this and feel free to review.  
> ~Storm

Chapter 7

June 14, 1880

The door opened and in walked not Vincent, beloved father, but Earl Phantomhive. His brown eyes were cold as ice and his mouth turned down ever so slightly at the corners. Hadrian felt his heart drop like a stone in his chest like it had never done before in either of his lives. He was not afraid of the man; even with his faulty magic he was sure that he would be able to escape, if need must, but a shiver of regret filled him at the thought.

Hadrian followed his father with his eyes as the man crossed the room and seated himself at his desk; neither of them said a word for several minutes. The boy took those minutes to really look at the man who had given his second body life. The man’s brown eyes had bags beneath them and his hand shook where it rested on the desk, but his back remained as straight as a rod; his face was perfectly blank. Nothing of Hadrian’s fate could be seen in any line of the man’s body and that led the boy to the worst conclusions.

“Hadrian,” his father’s voice was like stone when he spoke. It was a voice that he had never heard directed at himself and Hadrian found his own back straightening. “You are my son, my heir. When I leave this world you will succeed me as Earl Phantomhive. This is truth as far as the crown is concerned and I am not one to deny her Majesty. However you are very young yet and the crown’s truth can change at a moments notice. That having been said, my son, I expect you to tell me the facts of what happened in the hall last night.”

Hadrian froze; what did he tell the man? Did he spill all his secrets and face the penalty for his ‘crimes against god’ or did he lie? The click of a hammer being drawn back was his deciding factor. The green-eyed boy looked straight into the eyes of his father, completely ignoring the pistol pointed at him.

“I saw his darkness.” Hadrian’s words rang in the silence of the room, the pistol dropped and the man’s face whitened slightly, but those dark eyes beckoned for more. The boy grimaced and ran a hand over his face, he was more than a little uncomfortable even having exposed that little bit of himself. “I… Sometimes when I look into a person’s eyes I can see the what they keep hidden behind their smiles.”

“I see.” Vincent replied as he finally set the gun down on the desk and stood. He walked to the window that overlooked the front lawn. He leaned against the sill for several minutes, leaving Hadrian to sweat in the silence. The boy was just about to speak when he turned, his body silhouetted by the sun that poured through the window. “And last night you saw behind Henry’s smile, as you put it, into his darkness?”

“Yes.” Flashes of the man’s cruelty appeared before his eyes. Images of a young boy with blue-black hair and brown eyes quivering naked and bruised before him filled his mind's eye. Vincent had been just one of many of Henry’s victims, but he had been the most clearly remembered of them. Hadrian’s eyes must have shown something because the earl’s face darkened but after a moment the shadows faded from his father’s face.

“That explains some of it, your reaction at least, but not the pressure of the air or your quick movements. Tell me your answer to these things that defy the known sciences.”

“I…” Hadrian started, still completely unsure of what he was going to say. Only he was stopped from saying anything by Vincent waving his hand.

“No, do not say anything,” the older man said after a moment. He rubbed a hand across his face as his shoulders sagged. “I would rather that you not lie to me.”

“Will you send me to the Tower?” Hadrian inquired, his voice barely heard in the study. In the back of his mind the pistol, which lay on the desk, remained a still viable threat as well. His father blinked once then twice.

“Heaven above, boy,” Vincent suddenly sputtered as he laughed. His whole face a mix of shock and humor and the green-eyed boy felt relief course through his veins. “I have known you were different since the day you were born, Hadrian. The last thing I would do would be to send you there; dreadful place really. Certainly not somewhere a Phantomhive should be.”

~0~

August 1, 1880

When Hadrian woke on the day after his seventh birthday Marcus, his father’s butler, ushered him straight to the Earl’s formal study. Vincent was waiting for him; he stood backlit by the open window, his wide shoulders set in an easy line. The boy took a seat in a chair set out for him and waited.

“Phantomhive,” Vincent stated after a moment. “Our name holds great weight in this world. It is feared by men and women across the Empire, for good reason. We are the Queen’s Guard Dog; sanctioned to protect Queen and country from the darker elements that would seek to tarnish the reputation of the crown.”

Hadrian waited with near bated breath as his father paused. He did not understand what Vincent was getting at but it seemed important. The man turned and leaned against the window sill with his arms crossed. His face was pulled into a smug and deserving mask, his body loose and lean; he was a prime example of an English Gentleman.

“In other words we are responsible for the sick and twisted parts of human existence, those that would would sully the Queen’s drawers. With this responsibility comes great power and prestige; though I am a mere Earl I hold sway in the greatest circles and my orders come directly from Her Majesty,” The brown-eyed man paused again and stared off into the distance for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before he shook his head and looked back at Hadrian. “However, it also means that I, and you as my heir, have a great deal of enemies. For this reason we must be better, stronger and smarter than those who would seek to undo us.”

“Like the Duke?” Hadrian asked, though he really did not want to think about his great-uncle. Vincent nodded and sighed as he rubbed at his smooth shaven jaw.

“Yes, Henry has been a thorn in my side for a long time. He has sought to undermine my work since my father died, but it is not yet time for you to worry yourself about that man,” The Earl grimaced slightly then waved his hand dismissively. “From today on, I will be teaching you all you need to know to take over for me, and in the years to come Ciel will join us in case something happens to both of us down the line.”

“Is that likely Father?” Hadrian asked quietly. The thought that his little brother would fall into the dark world his father described left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Yes,” Vincent replied, his face twisted into a mask of sadness and regret. “I had three older brother and each parished either due to your grandfather’s training or because they failed to take their work seriously. We can only do so much, however, and if the worst comes then Ciel must be able to bare the weight of our sins as well as his own.”

Hadrian frowned, an image of little Ciel playing with their mother danced in his mind. Silently he swore he would do his best to protect them, to save them from the darkness that it seemed was his birth right. Behind him the shadows laughed, after all: once a hero, always a hero.

~0~

November 30, 1880

Vincent frowned slightly as he watched his son move through the sword work his tutor had assigned. The boy moved almost perfectly, like he had been doing the exercises for years instead of a few months. That is not to say that he had expected anything less from Hadrian, but it was still unnerving. The boy was scarily good at just about anything he tried his hand at and seemed to know things that only an adult should.

The Earl suspected that it had something to do with the boy’s ability to see into people’s darkness. It was as if he was pulling a person’s experiences along with their memories and did that not leave Vincent shaking. To know that his son, his precious Hadrian, was seeing the cruelty of the world first hand made him feel sick.

He had hoped to spare his children the role of Guard Dog, but Henry’s appearance had been a not so subtle reminder that the Phantomhives would always be trapped by their title. However as he watched Hadrian dance across the floor, rapier in hand, he could feel the noose of his deeds closing in around his neck. Vincent knew that he was living on the Queen’s time, had been since he had taken on the title of earl, and any one of his enemies could end his life at any moment.

Those thoughts had been haunting him since his birthday and he had already begun drawing up the proper documents to ensure that neither of his boys ended up in the care of Henry or the crown. Her Majesty would be most displeased with him, but he knew that it was for the best. Vincent wanted to make sure that if something happened to both him and Rachel that his sons would be taken care of.

Hadrian stopped moving, bending forward and leaning against his knees as he took great deep breaths. Vincent clapped loudly from his place slightly hidden behind a pillar causing the boy to startle. Cold green eyes and a rapier flashed in the sun that filtered into the room.

“Well done my son.” Vincent exclaimed as he pushed off the wall and started toward Hadrian.

“Father,” The boy’s eyes softened and the sword point dropped to the ground. The brown-eyed man could not help but notice that all signs of fatigue had vanished, leaving Hadrian standing back straight balanced perfectly on his feet. It left Vincent feeling both proud and sad. “I did not see you there.”

“That was the point,” Vincent laughed as he ruffled the boy’s sweaty hair. He was glad he still had stuff to teach his son. “One day you will be able to tell when someone enters a room, even if you are not looking.”

~0~

February 2, 1881

Hadrian sat straight backed as the carriage rolled toward London. He and his father were on their way to the city because of a string of murders. Vincent had not wanted to involve him but the Queen had suggested it. The fact that Victoria knew that his father was training him left him slightly uneasy.

Not that Hadrian held any ill will toward the woman, there was just something about the thought of her that sent a chill up his spine. However with his magic as weak and wild as it was, it was more likely a false positive then true foresight. Still to know that the Queen was keeping such close tabs on his family upset him.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the carriage came to a rocky stop. The driver alighted from the box and opened the door. Snow fluttered gently into the velvet interior and darkening the blue fabric. Marcus stepped out first followed by Vincent and Hadrian; the butler glanced back and forth, his hand subtly tucked into his coat pocket.

The boy looked up at the strange building, a tiny gray thing that seemed to both stand out and fade into the background. The sign read Undertaker, and coffins lined the walls. Hadrian felt his heart skip a beat; he had not forgotten the odd man who was his, whose name was blazin across the sign.

“Wait out here Marcus, and make sure no one enters.” His father stated, the servant nodded and took up a post at the door. Hadrian followed behind as Vincent entered the building. The inside was stuffy and cluttered, with coffins and other funeral paraphernalia scattered about. He looked up to see his father holding a handkerchief to his nose in a show of disgust at the filth around them.

“Welcome Lord Phantomhive,” A voice echoed through the room making it impossible to tell where the person was. At least that would have been true for anyone but someone who shared a bond with them; so Hadrian knew where Undertaker was. He stepped from his father’s side, barely missing being caught by the man’s hand, and walked right up to one of the coffins. He lifted the lid and sure enough the strange Undertaker lounged inside. “And ter ya as ‘ell Lil’ Master.” (1)

“Undertaker, will you please come out of there.” Vincent asked as he pulled Hadrian back and slightly behind him with an odd look.

“Of course,” The mortician explained as he heaved himself from the fabric lined box. He shook himself briefly, his braided silver hair flying everywhere, before scuttling across the shop to the front desk. Hadrian could feel those oddly colored eyes on him as he followed behind his father. Undertaker held out a small urn to him that smelled faintly of cinnamon. “Wif the bloomin’ Lil’ Master loike a cookie?” (2)

The boy waited a moment to catch his father’s nod out of the corner of his eye before reaching for the urn. When he opened it he was only slightly surprised to find bone shaped ginger snaps inside. Hadrian plucked one of the cookies from the bunch and handed the jar back with a quiet thank you.

“Now, let us get on to business, shall we?” The Earl said as he pulled a folder from his long jacket.

“Wot can I ‘elp ya wif?” (3) The silver-haired man asked as he too took a cookie and bit into it with a grin. Vincent flinched ever so slightly at the sickening crack given off by the confection but set the file on the counter and, after flipping through it a moment, held out a sheet to the other. “Ya callin’ abaht the young Lydy Scott then?” (4)

“Yes,” Vincent replied, he placed a hand on Hadrian’s shoulder as the boy popped the forgotten cookie into his mouth. “What can you tell me about her cause of death?”

“Bullet is wot took ‘er,” (5) Undertaker said as he chewed thoughtfully on his cookie. Hadrian could feel those fluorescent green eyes follow his every move even as the man spoke to his father. “Missin’ ‘er pretty face wite na she is.” (6)

“Enough man,” Vincent hissed as he tried to hide Hadrian as if to keep the boy from listening to the other. The boy just calmly evaded his attempts and crowded closer to the counter. The mortician smiled, teeth flashing in laughter, as one haunting eye peeked from behind silver locks. “Can you not behave like a civilized Englishman?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Undertaker said in perfectly polished Queen’s English. He smirked and chomped into another cookie. “Na Scapa Fla ya ‘ave wot ya came for.” (7)

“Payment?” Vincent asked with a grimace.

“Consider pages in full.” (8) The silver haired man replied as he handed another ginger snap to Hadrian. The Earl’s grimace turned into a dark frown and he gripped the green-eyed boy tightly by the shoulder before leading him out of the shop to the other’s loud laughter. Hadrian could not help looking over his shoulder as every fiber in his being want to stay but he let himself be dragged into the back of the carriage.

“I never want you to be alone with that man, is that understood?” Hadrian could hear the slight tremor in his father’s voice as the man spoke.

“As you say, Father,” The green-eyed boy responded with a minute head nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Translations - Please pardon if something is wrong I am working off a translator.
> 
> 1 - And ter ya as 'ell Lil Master - And to you as well little Master
> 
> 2 - Wif the bloomin' Lil Master loike a cookie - Would the little Master like a cookie
> 
> 3 - Wot can I 'elp ya wif - What can I help you with
> 
> 4 - Ya callin' abaht the young Lydy Scott then - You calling about the young Lady Scott then
> 
> 5 - Bullet is wot took 'er - Bullet is what took her
> 
> 6 - Missin' 'er pretty face wite na she is - Missing her pretty face right now she is
> 
> 7 - Na Scapa Fla ya 'ave wot ya came for - Now leave you have what you came for
> 
> 8 - Consider pages in full - Consider payment in full


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hey guys here is chapter 8 straight from my lovely beta. so a few things, i am part way through chapter 9 but my tablet is being a pain so i dont know when it will be done, that being said i am posting from my phone. now i dont know why but the ff email for chapter 7 just went out even though i posted last week, so yes i am aware. i hope you guys enjoy and review because i love hearing from all of you. be sure to check out my facebook which is linked in my profile. bye.

Chapter 8

June 30, 1882

Ciel was in a good mood as he played in one of the sitting rooms with Lizzie. They were playing with one of the Funtom toys that his father had given him. It was a wooden Noah’s Ark, it opened and small figures of men and animals could be moved around. The only thing that would have made him happier was if his brother, who sat on the other side of the room, would join in. However the eight year old was busy with some document that their father had given him that morning after breakfast and had refused to play with them.

Ciel frowned as he looked over at the busy green eyed boy, his brother always seemed to have something he was doing and barely had time for him. It had recently become very lonely in the Phantomhive Manor as far as the youngest member was concerned; that had lead his mother to invite Lizzie and her mother over more often. The six year old was grateful, truly, but he missed his brother.

“Are you alright Ciel?” Lizzie asked, her blue eyes looking at him in concern. He blinked in surprise at the question and distantly noticed the shuffle of paper from behind him had stopped.

“Yes,” He replied and tried to go back to his happiness but he failed to find it. He moved one of the little people around for a few moments before a sigh echoed through the room. He turned to find Hadrian putting his papers down and standing from his chair. The green-eyed boy stretched his back before making his way towards them. Ciel felt a smile creeping across his face as his brother flopped onto the ground next to him.

Nothing was said between them but the blue-eyed boy figured that Hadrian had caught him looking and had decided to humor him. Still he was glad his brother was there, it seemed like it had been an age since the older boy had played with him or Lizzie, and when he glanced at the girl he saw that she too was smiling. They played like that for what felt like hours, laughing and just enjoying each other’s company.

~0~

March 9, 1883

At twenty-nine Angelina was well into her spinsterhood, not that the men of the ton knew her reasons for denying every suiter. She had healed slowly from her wounds but scars, both physical and mental, remained to remind her of what had happened. However she had fought back against the dark memories, against the madness that surfaced in her mind. She changed herself; built an image of red to hide the black stains of her soul. She kept her ruby hair short, remembering the way they had gripped the length with strong hands, and dawned a scarlet dress. She became Madam Red.

She sipped her drink slowly as the dancers circled the room; the party was winding down but she did not feel like leaving. Instead she wandered to the balcony where she stood looking toward the pale false dawn. Thankfully the couples that had journeyed to the gardens were nowhere to be seen and she was alone, at least she was for a few minutes.

Angelina was leaning against the balcony rail when someone cleared their throat behind her. She jumped slightly and turned to find a tall fair haired man standing near the doors with a weak, timid smile on his lips. The redhead wanted to run. Even though the attack had been years before, she still felt vulnerable being alone around men.

“Miss Dallas, I am Baron Burnett.” He said quietly as he bowed to her.

“It is an honor to meet you, Baron Burnett.” She responded with a curtsy. Angelina looked into the man’s blue eyes and found kindness within them. They were so different from the eyes of all other men she had known and they intrigued her. She felt a blush touch her cheeks as he smiled at her. Her ruby eyes gleamed as they held his and she was for the first time not reminded of her love for another.

~0~

May 21, 1883

The waters of fate had been stirring all day and had left Hadrian more than a little on edge. He stood next to his father in the crowded salon watching the coming and goings of the room while also keeping an eye on Ciel. His brother was still terribly shy and tended to hang on to one of their hands, but with so many potential enemies in such a tiny place it was ideal to keep a closer watch than normal. A man that sent the hairs on the back of his neck on edge entered from a side room.

The man was slightly thick around the middle with brown hair that was ‘fashionably’ cut and wore almost dainty looking circular glasses that gleamed in the candlelight. He looked around until his eyes fell onto Burnett, the man who had taken fancy with Hadrian’s Aunt Angelina. The two of them exchanged greetings, but before Hadrian could see more Ciel pulled on his arm distracting him. Frustratingly enough the men had moved when he was able to look up again; only they reappeared in a flash right there in front of his small family.

He let the men’s words fade into the background, only bowing when his name was called, as he tried to catch the new man’s eyes. Hadrian knew that his use of Legilimency on a ‘muggle’, no matter how weak his magic was, was a serious affair and that he should not take the use of it lightly, but sometimes he just needed to know what was in store for his family. The man, Baron Kelvin his mind supplied, pulled his eyes from his father’s face and stared at Ciel with a stunned look. His father had a smile on his face but the Baron’s silence was more than a little rude, and even Burnett was almost edging away from the situation.

Finally the brown haired man’s eyes met Hadrian’s and the world exploded. Or, that was what it felt like to the boy. The visions of brilliance in Baron Kelvin’s mind was almost too much, everything was fate touched and left the green-eyed boy shivering at the mania he could see blooming before him. They stayed locked in each other’s gaze for several long minutes until his father’s voice called Hadrian back to himself. He broke the Occlumency to find a familiar blond lifting Ciel high into the air. The sight of Chlaus, beloved family friend, however was not enough to distract the boy from his now dark thoughts.

Thomas Hamilton or Baron Kelvin was a man who thought himself to be kind. Hadrian however could see the madness and desires that he kept sealed away in the darkest parts of his soul. Deep inside Hadrian the waters of fate had stilled and he grit his teeth as he walked past the Baron. He knew that their meeting, fate tinged as it was, would come back to haunt him later, but he followed dutifully behind his father and Chlaus as they left behind the man.

~0~

July 19,1883

Panic coursed through his blood with each sharp, burning inhale that Ciel tried to drag into his heaving chest. Every wheezing exhale left him weak and trembling where he lay on the side lawn. Somewhere in the background he knew Lizzie was screaming but all he could hear was the deep thud of his heart as it raced in his ears. His vision was quickly narrowing while white spots danced in his sight.

He gasped and coughed; clutching his chest and throat with iron fists as he struggled to draw in each breath. Logically, with that distant and quiet part of his brain, he knew that he was having another asthma attack but with every passing moment his senses slipped further from his grasp. Ciel clawed at the grass and his own skin with a growing sense of his own mortality.

He was going to die.

He shuddered and tears slid down his cheeks as he fought desperately for each life giving breath. Darkness started to touch the edges of his vision and his head swam. Ciel felt himself weakening as his lips and lungs burned just when someone grabbed his arms. The person pulled his limp frame up and he could faintly feel hands scrambling at his clothes.

Suddenly Ciel could feel cool skin against his burning flesh and the softest of glows filled his dim gaze. Everything stopped; his breathing, the burning and his vision faded. Only he blinked and the darkness receded; he could feel the strain of his breathing ease and he coughed. Sweet, cool air filled his lungs and he opened his eyes.

“Oh thank god,” A voice whispered above him. Ciel glanced toward the voice and found his brother’s face hovering over him. Sweat stained the other’s brow and Hadrian’s breath came quickly, but a relieved smile touched his lips. “Welcome back little brother.”

~0~

July 19, 1883

Hadrian knew that it was cheating to use his magic to ease his brother’s asthma but when he’d seen the dark figure of the death standing over the crumpled body he had panicked. It was like that night his father was injured all over again only this time he had been quick enough to help. The manifestation of death did not vanish as the other had; his face set in a frown, his two tone green eyes staring down at the two boys with an unreadable look.

Hadrian knew that he meddling with things and that the forces of the world were probably not happy but what could he do, just watch people he had come to care for die? He ignored the people that had gathered around them as he all but glared at the creature while he pulled the recovering boy closer to himself. The green-eyed boy finally turned to face his brother and was relieved to see those blue orbs looking back at him.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed. Above him the unseen figure turned and walked away; Hadrian felt his shoulders relax slightly even though he knew he would more than likely have to pay a price for his interference. He dropped his head to hide his tears of joy as he heard his parents joining the circle around them. “Welcome back little brother.”

Ciel gave a small smile even though it was still probably a little hard to breath, he had not cured the disease after all. Not that he had not tried, but he had never been very good at medical spells and with his wild magic it had been even more difficult. Hadrian quietly let his mother take his brother from him and stood from his place crouched on the ground. He watched as the crowd slowly followed the Countess back toward the manor but he remained rooted to the spot for several minutes.

Hadrian took deep breaths trying to keep himself from shaking. Every fiber of his being was split in two; one half wanting to follow his family, the other wanted to hunt down the creature who had almost taken his brother. Instead he reached up and grasped his hair in clenched fists as he held in the scream that wanted to escape him because in his heart the waters of fate stirred. It was unfair; had he not given everything to fate, even his own life. What more could he give?

~0~

February 12, 1884

The marriage of Baron Gregory Burnett and Miss Angelina Dallas was an event to be remembered, Vincent made sure of it. He felt he owed it to the woman, after all he was the first person to break her poor heart. He sighed as the bride walked towards the altar; she looked stunning, her ruby locks stood out strikingly against her white dress. It had been a struggle to get her to agree to the color, but it was tradition as her first wedding.

Burnett was a good man, if he had not been Vincent would never have agreed to the match, and the Earl completely expected the man to take care of the fragile Angelina. Not that the blue-black haired man thought she was weak because of her sex, but he had seen the dark look of insanity in her eyes when she thought herself alone. An insanity he had seen far to often in the eyes of his enemies, and he had feared that she would become one of those enemies. But Burnett was good for her.

The blond man stood at the altar smiling as his soon-to-be wife walked towards him. Angelina smiled softly as well though Vincent knew she did not love the other as he loved her. She had admitted as much to him in the weeks leading up to the wedding but he had pretended not to hear her so as to protect their family. She had understood, or at least that was the impression he had received when the red-eyed woman did not repeat herself.

Vincent settled down in his chair next to his family and watched his sister-in-law get married. Rachel was completely enthralled by the whole affair, Ciel seemed bored and Hadrian was watching the bridegroom with his sharp emerald eyes. The Earl wondered what the boy could see behind the Baron’s smile, but he would not ask; some things were better left alone after all.

~0~

July 10, 1884

It was a cool day, far from the heat of the 21st century, and Hadrian had decided to take a ride. Riding a horse was not dissimilar from riding any of the many mythical beasts he had encountered in his first life and he found great comfort in the act. The blue-black haired boy and his painted yearling were out on one of the many trails that dotted the country estate enjoying the fresh air. They had just crested a hill when a shot rang out.

The yearling reared, nearly throwing the boy but Hadrian managed to hang on for dear life before setting off at a wild gallop. A second report sounded in the deadly silent area and the blue-black haired boy felt a burn in his dominate right arm. He was only just holding on as the barely trained colt ran haphazardly across the lands belonging to the Phantomhives.

Hadrian did not know how long it took for the horse to calm down enough to still, panting and shaking, but when he was finally able to look around he was surprised at how close the beast had gotten to the manor. He slid from the yearling’s back and patted him gently on the shoulder before trying to urge the creature home. The stable master was the first to see them and came running with a sour look on his face.

“Master Hadrian, I told you not to run him so hard. Look at poor Mosaic…” The man, who was completely ordinary in every way, started only to stop when Hadrian turned slightly revealing his bloody sleeve. “What happened?”

“I was shot at, man,” The boy said in an indignant voice as he passed the horse off to one of the stable hands. The man’s face went white as he reached out and took hold of Hadrian’s right shoulder, only to let go at the green-eyed boy’s startled scream. Hadrian looked down at the injured area and was surprised at just how much blood stained the white cloth of his shirt. “I think the doctor will need to be called.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hello people, now here is chapter 9. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Chapter 10 is already in the works but it will have some objectional stuff that will not be posted on FF. If you are of age it will be posted on AO3 in it's complete form. Just thought I would give you all a heads up about that but I hope that does not deter you from enjoying this chapter. Thank you  
> Storm

Chapter 9

October 29, 1884

July’s attack on his brother was like a turning point in young Ciel’s life. The thankfully minor injury had spurred their father into taking more of an interest in him. Not that Hadrian was ignored after that, and the one time he had mentioned his concern had left the older boy bent in laughter. So instead of worrying about it, the blue-eyed boy relaxed and enjoyed lessons with his father.

However, he quickly found that Hadrian was better than him at just about everything. Of course while growing up Ciel had known his brother was perfect, but it was a bitter pill to swallow that he could not match that reputation. The older boy was always willing to help him though and the blue-eyed boy loved his brother even more for it. Still, the work was hard and Ciel often found himself exhausted by the end of the night. He did not know how his brother was able to take on three times the amount of work as him and still wake up early every morning.

Ciel had to admit that learning the ins and outs of his father’s work was interesting. His father had him mostly working with the tenants who used Phantomhive land for one reason or other and Funtom Industry paperwork, but he knew Hadrian was dealing with the darker aspects of being a Phantomhive. As the spare Ciel knew he would eventually learn about being the Guard Dog, just incase, but his true purpose was to help his brother in any way he could with the smaller stuff. He was not jealous of the green-eyed boy and his destiny, being the Queen’s Dog was not an easy task and required a great deal of skills that Ciel just did not have at that moment.

“Ciel,” Hadrian’s voice knocked him from his thoughts and Ciel could not help but blush at being caught so unaware. “Are you not suppose to be working?”

“I am sorry brother,” The young boy said softly. He looked at his brother only to notice the sparkle in those green eyes and he knew he was not really in trouble. “I was just caught in my thoughts.”

“I see,” Hadrian replied with a soft smile. He ruffled Ciel’s hair as he sat himself on the corner of the desk the younger was sitting at. “They must be some lofty thoughts indeed to distract you from your work so.”

Ciel looked down at the report he had been reading, it was from some farmer about crop rotation and was boring, so it was no wonder that he had lost himself in thought. He handed the paper to his brother who looked over the first page with a practiced glance before smiling wider. He handed the report back to Ciel with a little laugh.

“I know that it is not as stimulating as some other things, but Farmer Patrick’s reports are extremely important,” Hadrian said as he stood and stretched his back. “If you look closer you might just find something interesting.”

Ciel watched his brother leave with the same cryptic smile their father was so well known for on his face. He glanced down at the report with a sceptical look and decided to reread the document, if a little more thoroughly. Surely enough after a closer second read he found that the man was actually reporting on the movement of groups of people across the country. He looked over his shoulder at his brother who was seated at another desk and wondered how long it had taken the other to figure out the secret to reading the documents. He smiled and shook his head as he turned to grab another ‘boring’ report from his pile.

~0~

November 9,1884

Angelina had to admit that marrying Gregory Burnett was probably one of the best things she had ever done. For the first time since Rachel and Vincent got married she felt truly content; however it was known between the two of them that she did not love him as a wife should love her husband, but Gregory said he did not care. It was perhaps the best she could have asked for,  but she would forever be a little disappointed that he was not Vincent.

“Doctor Burnett,” A sharp male voice startled her from behind and for all of a second she was no longer in the Royal London Hospital. She was back in the darkness of that night she tried so hard to forget. But then it was over, and she was standing in the hospital with the Senior Doctor on staff bearing down on her. Angelina turned to met the decrepit old man whose white hair barely reached his chin. “If you are done staring into space then it hold behoove you to get back to work.”

“Yes Doctor.” She nodded respectfully and waited for the man to walk away, his cane tapping out a rhythm as he moved, before sighing softly. Behind her Angelina could hear the snickers of her fellows but she refused to let them see her weak or affected by their cruelty.

Angelina was proud to be the first female doctor in Britain, but sometimes she was reminded that she had only gotten so far on the backs of others. Dear Vincent, without whom she would have never gotten into the Royal College of Surgeons, and sweet Gregory, who had helped get her fellowship. Both men had allowed her to follow her dream even with all of the social pressure against it. She was determined to prove to them that their faith in her was not misplaced and she refused to blend in with the background.

She had to throw back her shoulders and hold her head up high. After all, she was Baroness Angelina Burnett nee Dallas, and even though the world looked down on her for being a woman, she would beat them all at their own games. She smiled widely and tossed her ruby hair from her face as she walked towards her next patient.

~0~

March 6, 1885

Hadrian knew his aunt was pregnant before she said anything, but he could not bring up any emotion because as he looked at her and her husband standing there he could feel the waters of fate stirring in his heart. Her pregnancy would not lead to anything good, of that he was sure, but he did not dare to open his mouth to warn them. He had played with Death and Fate too much in his life to not know when things were unavoidable and the fate that awaited his aunt’s family was not something he could tamper with.

He turned from the celebrating family, his heart hurt to look at them. Hadrian knew that if he stayed he would break. He walked away slowly, every fiber of his body protesting with every move, his loved ones far too caught up in the happiness to notice as he left the house. It was raining outside so the hot tears that streamed down his face were hidden, though the shaking of his shoulders would have given him away.

Hadrian stood out there for a long time, long enough for a chill to settle into his bones and the clouds to shift. When the rain stopped and the weak sun peeked out he allowed himself to breath a little easier. His green eyes were clear when he headed back into the manor; he had mourned for the lives caught in Fate’s hand and while he could do nothing to aide them he would try to sop up the aftermath.

~0~

October 2, 1885

Hadrian knew of the deaths of Baron Burnett and the unborn child of the Baroness long before word reached the rest of the Phantomhives. Like a whisper the shiver of death washed over him, so faintly that he would have missed it if he had been otherwise preoccupied, and he knew the shy friendly blond his aunt had married had passed. He was extremely shaken by it because he had never truly felt a death like that before. In fact, bar the times he had seen the strange Death manifestations and his encounters with Undertaker, the entity had been quiet.

Even in his life as Harry, which he tried his best not to think about, Death had had a presence; it had not been unlike a subtle sound that you never noticed was there until it was gone. He was starting to think that Death was using a different method to collect souls in his new world; could the manifestations actually be more like vessels, separate beings granted a task instead of a living breathing part of the unlimited essence that was Death? He suspected that in his original world that the abundant magic allowed the entity to pull the souls to a singular side realm, some place not unlike the ghostly King’s Cross Station, but the place he had been reborn into was not so saturated in magic.

Hadrian almost missed the secondary smaller shiver that announced to him the baby’s death but he had been straining his senses, throwing out almost wild magic waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was still in his room anticipating a third whisper soft shiver when the messenger reached the manor. His mother’s devastated scream rang through the whole house and he solemnly wandered toward the sound while the rest of the household ran at top speed. He stood on the landing of the grand stairs watching as everyone gathered around the fallen woman who clutched the black trimmed letter to her chest.

“What has happened?” He heard his father shout above the noise of so many people. Like the red sea the group parted and allowed the man to approach his wife who looked up at him in despair. “Rachel, what news has you so upset?”

He could not hear his mother’s words but he could read her lips, a carriage had struck the small family. Gregory had died almost instantly but Angelina had been rushed to the hospital, word on her condition was not looking well. Hadrian finished descending the stairs and the crowd of servants parted again, allowing him to see his mother, father and brother at the center of the circle. His heart froze, for the light dusting of gold that touched their skin could be nothing but the kiss of Fate upon them.

Hadrian had no idea what to do, the tragedy of the day had already had him a little shaken, but as he gazed at his grieving family his whole foundation seemed to crumble beneath his very feet. However, his legs were as strong as ever as he slowly approached them, his face set straight as he helped pull his mother to her feet and guide her to the nearest sitting room. He could not break, his father had explained the world he would have to inherit, and if he broke he would never be able to face the challenges that awaited him. So instead he allowed the events to be pushed down, added to those of his past life, and just went with the motions.

~0~

December 14, 1885

Vincent had known for a long while that his time was coming, but he had not expected it to happen in such a manner. He clutched desperately at the bleeding wound to his chest as he glared at the white haired gentleman who stood over him. Purple eyes stared back at him as the man flicked the black gloved hand holding his rapier. Blood spattered across the furniture of the sitting room where the Earl had been resting prior to his son’s party.

“Who are you?” Vincent demanded with a sneer. The figure smiled as he licked his lips and leaned close to the injured man. Pale lips parted to answer him only to stop when the door to the room opened. Rachel walked in and the Earl felt his heart stop.

“Vincent… Oh my god!” She gasped as she rushed to his side, her view of the intruder blocked by the open door.

“No, Rachel! Run!” Vincent shouted as he tried to stand, but the pain from his many wounds stopped him. The second his attention slipped from the intruder the man struck, but not at him. The blood stained rapier slid easily through Rachel, her briefly confused look turned into one of great pain as the blade was ripped from her flesh. The earl knew she was gone as her body slipped sideways to lie slumped over. 

He tried to drag himself across the floor to his beloved, but the man- no, beast- pinned him with the rapier through his leg. Vincent bit harshly at his tongue causing blood to pool and spill from his mouth but he reached his hand towards his wife in spite of the pain. He wanted to be with her in his final moments.

“So rude,” The unknown creature said as he lent on the blade lodged in Vincent’s leg. “Here I am, trying to purify you, and you ignore me!”

“Purify me?” Vincent asked, more blood flowing from his mouth. The monster did not answer, smiling wider as he twisted the blade in the blue-black haired man’s leg. Darkness started to encroach on his vision and the Earl knew he was dead. His hand stretched out for Rachel, his fingers brushing hers for just a moment before the world went dark.

~0~

December 14, 1885

Hadrian had been on edge all day despite the festivity of Ciel’s birthday. His nerves were so frazzled that he was useless at his work and ended up retiring to his room. He waited there, pacing the length of the room for hours until an odd presence descended on the manor. It was unlike anything he had ever felt and left his teeth aching for the sickly sweetness of it.

Hadrian immediately raced to his door, intent on finding the source only to floored when the presence all but exploded outward. It pressed him to his floor, causing his magic to wither beneath his skin as it fought to free him. He did not know how long he lay there stuck but eventually he was able to pry himself up and crawl to to his door.

The green-eyed boy was panting and sweating when he reached the door and used it prop himself back onto his feet. He turned the knob and slowly made his way out of his room. He leaned against the wall and slowly but surely made his way toward the presence. A maid come running toward him, her face frantic and eyes wild.

“Master Hadrian.” She gushed as she rushed to his side. He pushed her away almost roughly and continued on towards the growing presence. Hadrian felt more sweat soaking his shirt as he trekked down the hall and his breathing was coming in quick pants. The energy was filling the manor but he fought toward the center until he was right above it.

Then, like a shadow in the sun, the presence vanished, leaving Hadrian almost bereft. He sunk to his knees as he gasped for breath, but the world rang with wrongness and he forced himself back to his feet. No longer weighed down by the presence, he noticed the fire that raged around him. It licked at the walls and ceiling with gusto, seeming as ravenous as fiendfyre. Below him the sounds of screams and the crackle of the fire as the very floor he stood on was eaten away at.

Hadrian started running hoping his family had made it out, but as he took the stairs two at a time he could hear his brother’s screams for their parents. So instead of heading outside to safety, the green-eyed boy turned when he reached the entrance hall and headed toward Ciel’s voice. He had sight of the boy just as Ciel threw open the door to one of the sitting rooms. Hadrian nearly lunged for his brother but the boy did not enter the room, instead he stood in horrified shock. The older boy skidded to a stop just next to his brother and grabbed his shoulder with a rough hand.

“Ciel, we have to go before…” Hadrian stopped speaking as the sickly sweet scent of burning flesh caught his attention. All the world slowed as he turned until he spotted a familiar silhouette seated at a burning table. He wanted to rush in, but he could feel the lifelessness of his father’s figure. He was not sure how long the two of them stood there watching their father burn when old man Tanaka came through the smoke and flames that had all but sealed the two boys’ fate.

“Run!” He shouted as he grabbed a shoulder of each boy and started back the way he had come. They made it almost out of the house when dark cloaked figures appeared from the fire. Tanaka quickly pushed the boys behind him but the older man was easily subdued by the larger group. Hadrian threw out his hand willing his magic to save them from the fire and kidnappers, but nothing happened. He drew his brother close as the men descended on them but could do nothing. Darkness was quick to follow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hey ya'll, how ya doing? Here is Chapter 10, now I said last time that there would be disagreeible things in this chapter but I decided to split the chapter because it was getting to long. That being said there is still some NSFW stuff at the very end it is marked and should only be read at your own discretion however it has some information in it that is improtant to the rest of the story. I will be taking a break from WaP to write some of my other stuff so be on the look out for that if you are interested. Please R&R and tell me if you enjoyed the chapter or not.  
> Storm

Chapter 10

December 14, 1885

Angelina sat quietly as her carriage carried her closer to her sister’s home. It had been two months since her accident and while her body had healed well from it, her mind had not. She kept replaying the events over in her head; each moment passing slowly in front of her eyes even though at the time it had happened in a blink. The shock, fear and pain in those blue eyes as they lay huddled in the broken wreckage of their carriage. The copper tang of blood on her tongue as she tried to keep the hot fluid from leaking out of his side. Gregory’s sad, knowing smile as he looked up at her, his life slipping from his grasp even as pain coursed through her belly.

Something had changed in Angelina that day, the darkness that she had suffocated since her attack had bloomed in the dark shambles of her heart as she mourned the death of her husband and their unborn child who never got to take a breath. As she had lain in the hospital, the head doctor explaining that she had severe bleeding as well and that it had been necessary to take both child and uterus from her to save her life, the redhead had felt almost numb. She had wanted a child since before Hadrian was born, and as if by some cruel twist she lost any chance of ever having one because of some fool. 

Angelina took some deep breaths, trying desperately to calm the furious thoughts racing through her head as their… her new coach drove through the outskirts of London. The beautiful scenery all but lost on her, they had just crested the hill that overlooked the Phantomhive manor when she heard the driver give a startled yell. Puzzled she peeked out the window to ask him what was wrong only to feel her breath leaving her. The manor was on fire. The driver flicked the horses, and the coach sped toward the engulfed house.

She bounded from the conveyance as soon as it came to a stop and was dismayed at the scene before her. Angelina could see servants milling around; some, those who were injured , were clustered together as far from the inferno as possible while others tried to keep it from spreading. However she could not see any blue-black or strawberry-blonde hair mixed into the masses. While she watched, ignored but not unnoticed, a small group of people came flying from the mouth of the house. She recognized the house steward immediately and, being careful of her still healing wounds, she hurried over to the group.

The crowding servants parted to allow her through but did not say a word as she passed. Reaching the side of Tanaka, who was laid out on the ground, she noticed that the man had been injured and she started assessing him. He had a definite head wound and smoke in his lungs no doubt, as while as a long deep slice in his side. The white haired man would not have made it to medical help, but she had brought her work bag just as a precaution. Angelina ordered her driver to grab her bag and gently eased herself to the ground by the man’s head just as his eyes opened.

“Lady Angelina,” the man rasped up at her as he blinked several times. 

“Mister Tanaka, what happened here?” She asked quietly, her hands already dealing with his wounds. She saw the moment he remembered what was happening because his brown eyes widened and he tried to sit bolt upright. Two of the other servants held him down as the driver returned with her bag. He started screaming as his hands dug frantically at the ground and the red head was worried she would have to drug him to calm him, but after a minute the man fell to soft sobs.

“May God have mercy on them.” The haunting words fell from the man’s lip like stones on her fragile heart.

“What do you mean?” Her lips trembled but her hands remained firm as she patched his wounded side.

“Master Vincent is dead,” Angelina felt her mind break just a little more and she held her breath, waiting for news of her sister and nephew’s deaths as well. The man looked deeply into her eyes, forcing her to still her hands as they worked, and seemed to freeze the world. “The young masters have been taken.”

Her heart skipped a beat, she was not ignorant of her brother-in-law’s ‘duties’; Vincent had told her one night about the danger that could follow her because she was now related to him and she could only guess at the risk to his heirs. But that also meant that the boys were still alive. She frantically finished wrapping the steward’s chest before rising, far too quickly given the pain in her stomach. Angelina stared at the burning structure as the beams started to fall before turning sharply to the driver. She had work to do; she had lost her husband, baby, love and sister but she was determined not to lose either of her nephews.

~0~

???????????????????

There was no slow waking period for Hadrian, instead the world came quickly into focus as adrenaline coursed through his body. He was on his feet in an instant, green eyes scanning the candle lit room, and he grasped for the magic that remained just out of his reach. Despair filled his chest as he stared at the thick steel bars that towered over his head, because without his magic he might as well be a normal child, his knowledge of rebirth be damned.

A sound in the corner of his cell had him spinning towards the noise, fingers curled into dagger like claws; he might be just a child but he would not go down so easily again. Only he found the source of the sound he had heard was a huddled figure laid out in the cage with him, a figure with short blue-black hair perched upon it’s head. Hadrian felt his heart break at the small sob that came from his brother, what it must be like for the boy.

The green eyed boy could not even fathom the pain that Ciel must be in. Afterall, he had never known his first parents, and while he had cared for Vincent it was true that he had buried many beloved people in his heart. The Earl was just another tally in his soul and his death, while painful, would lessen with time, only with his passing that left the title to his oldest son. Earl Hadrian Phantomhive held a hollow ring to it, and as he watched Ciel sob quietly in a room of caged children, it was meaningless.

“Ciel,” He called quietly as he edged closer to his brother. The boy turned damp blue eyes on him before rushing at him. Hadrian opened his arms as he had so often done for him in the past, and he held tight when the body he held shook violently. A tear slipped from his own eye and fell into the other’s blue-black locks. He squeezed Ciel as close to him as possible as he tried to block out the sounds of hundreds of feet heading their way. “I can not say that everything will be alright. We are in a desperate situation brother. I want you to know that if anything happens to me that I have cared for you deeply and nothing that has happened has been your fault.”

“But…” The boy started, only to stop when a hundred or more masked people came pouring out of a set of giant doors set into one side of the amphitheatre-like room they were being held in. Hadrian felt rage fill him, because leading the group was a single unmasked figure. Henry, Duke of Norfolk, had a gloating smile on his face as he almost glided to the center of the circle of cages near to a ritual altar. He waited for the others to seat themselves before stamping his cane on the ground, the sound of which rang through the room.

“Welcome brothers and sisters,” He said in true showman style, arms thrown out wide as he turned in a slow circle. The masked men and women waited with bated breaths and Henry seemed to eat up their attention. “Now that all of our Guests have arrived the party you have all been waiting so long for can commence!”

The figures began cheering and jeering at the caged children, seeming more animal than human, and Henry just smiled wider and allowed his eyes to travel across the cages. When their eyes met, Hadrian could not help but feel sickened by the fact that their great-uncle was part of the plot that had lead them to being in that prison. He clutched at Ciel for dear life, refusing to allow the boy to look at the devil who claimed family blood. Henry tipped an imaginary hat his way and turned his back on him. Hadrian could not hold his tongue.

“I know you, Henry of Norfolk!” He shouted above the cheering. The room fell silent in an instant as every masked figure waited to see what their leader would do or say, but Hadrian was not finished. “I know you for what you are, and I curse the blood that flows through my veins for the taint you put upon it.”

“How dare you!” The man exclaimed in a rage as he turned toward the two of them again. Henry stalked to their cage and leaned in close to the bars, his milky eyes staring at them in blind fury. “If not for me, boy, you would have long been dead.”

“Better dead than at your mercy,” hissed Hadrian; he pushed Ciel behind him and prawled closer to the bars. However, it seemed the old man remembered himself before the boy could catch him unaware,    because he took several steps out of range of grasping hands.

“Careful boy, that can be arranged,” Henry finally replied through a menacing smile as his eyes trailed over to the defenceless Ciel,  and Hadrian finally noticed that the boy was standing far too close to the door of their cell. It happened in a blink; the door was thrown open and the younger boy was snatch from the cage before the portal closed. He plowed into the steel bars, one arm stretched out to the screaming child. 

“Ciel!!” He screamed; the boy struggled desperately, clawing and biting at his captors. 

“Now be careful boys; you do not want to damage our special guest too much.” Henry shouted playfully at the men who held the ten year old. Someone's hand slipped and Ciel managed to escape for all of a moment before he was caught again and thrown to the floor. Hadrian sunk to his knees in despair as some masked female pulled a white hot brand from a torch bucket. Ciel was held down as his shirt was torn aside; he screamed loudly as the brand touched the skin of his side. The men laughed as they held onto the bucking, sobbing child. Henry just smiled.

All of the other children in the room were silent as they huddled into the farthest corner of their cages. Hadrian reached for his magic again but could no more touch the energy then he could Ciel. The sickly sweet smell of human tissue burning was chased by the ringing laughter of the rest of the throng that awaited on the benches. The thugs dragged the no longer moving boy back to Hadrian’s cage and with a lightning quickness tossed him back inside, completely uncaring of the wound they had caused.

~0~

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Hadrian did not know how long they had been captives; the candle lit room had no windows, and the poor food came at very inconsistent times. It was more than likely a very effective strategy to keep them weak and disoriented, and it was working. All of the children, even Ciel, were very close to losing hope, but he was determined to get his brother out safely. So he waited with bated breath for the men to bring their food once again.

When they did appear, he sat laying close to the door, hoping they would think he was sleeping and he could surprise them. Only they grabbed him by the arms before he could even move from his spot, and dragged him across the floor. Henry was waiting in the middle of the room, just shy of the altar, and Hadrian was forced to his knees. The two men holding him pulled his arms roughly behind him.

“Oh Hadrian, so beautiful,” The old man said softly as he took a firm hold of Hadrian’s chin and lifted his head until they were face to face. The boy struggled against his captors, bucking and twisting his arms as he tried to shake off his great uncle’s foul hand. Henry leaned forward and ran his tongue across the blue-black haired boy’s scowling lips. The boy wrenched one of his arms free and dragged the sharp, uncut nails of his left hand across the Duke’s cheek. The man jerked back with a pained sound and touched his cheek gingerly. “You little beast.”

“Fuck you,” Hadrian snarled, but he could see the dark thoughts forming in the man’s eyes as clearly as if he was using magic.

“Bring him.” Henry barked and the two men dragged the boy over to the altar and with great strength started to tie him to it. The old man waited until the boy was strapped down before pulling a bottle from his pocket; he held it up to the candlelight and watched as the liquid sloshed around. “Now nephew, I was hoping not to have to use this on you, but it would seem that your father filled your head with all kinds of naughty things. So really the only one you have to blame for this is him.”

Hadrian did not dare say anything, instead he kept his mouth as tightly closed as he could but he knew from experience that it was only a matter of time before he ingested the bottle of fluid. Henry seemed to know that fact as well because he simply stoppered the boy’s nose and waited until Hadrian could no longer hold his breath. When he finally opened his mouth to gasp for breath the Duke shoved the bottle between his lips and let the thick liquid flow into the boy’s mouth.

Hadrian tried to spit and force the sweetness from his mouth but the man simple used his other hand to covered the twelve year old’s lips. The boy knew it was a losing battle but he still fought until finally all he could do was swallow. The feeling of cold fire burned his throat and his eyes drooped until finally, he succumbed to darkness.

~0~

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Ciel watched as his brother was dragged from their cage with scared, teary eyes from his corner. He wanted to help but his side burned sharply whenever he moved reminding him that the people holding them were not above hurting them. Hadrian was restrained in front of the man his brother had called Henry of Norfolk. The boy could not hear them, but he saw the moment his brother’s arm came loose and it flashed across the man’s face.

Ciel did not dare move as his brother was tied down and drugged, far too afraid of more pain to even think of going to his brother’s aid, even if he could. The room was slowly filling up with the masked people, and that always was a bad sign.  Besides his branding, the two Phantomhives had been pretty much left alone in the games the men and women played with the other captives, but with an unresponsive Hadrian tied to the altar it was no doubt who their next victim would be. He watched as Henry called down one of the men and handed him a wickedly looking knife.

“My friends,” Henry cried out. He pointed to Hadrian whose green eyes were closed. “This creature has sinned against us, so we must then teach him the consequences of  striking his betters.”

The crowd cheered and clapped, baying like children at the fair, and the man with the knife stepped forward and with sure, practiced movements placed the blade to Hadrian’s left shoulder. Ciel felt his breath leave him as the metal cut deep into his brother with barely any movement from the older boy. He had an idea of what they were planning and he grasped the bars with his trembling hands. They gave ever so slightly under his hold as he watched the man slowly cut away at the flesh of his brother’s arm.

“Stop!” Ciel screamed over the laughter, but no one listened. He screamed again and again as the arm was cut off at the shoulder with surgical precision. When the arm was finally lifted away from the unconscious bleeding boy both Ciel and the crowd fell silent. The boy felt the bars give a little more but paid it no attention as the Duke grabbed one of the  candles near him and touched it to the wound. Hadrian’s scream echoed through the chamber, the feeling of his flesh burning no match for whatever drug the man had forced down his throat even though he had barely flinched at his arm being taken. 

When Henry was finished with cauterizing the wound he placed the candle down and leaned over Hadrian whispering something into the sobbing boy’s ear. The one armed child was released from the bloody altar and dragged back to the cage that Ciel was in. After being placed back in the cell Hadrian crawled as far from the door as he could and the younger brother placed himself near him. Ciel could barely stand to see the black and red mess that had been his beloved brother’s arm but he forced himself to engrain it in his mind. The keystone of darkness in his heart teetered.


End file.
